


Dream Brother I thru III (5/7)

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-04-15
Updated: 2001-04-15
Packaged: 2018-11-20 12:06:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 57,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11335326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Sent to investigate mysterious hauntings in the painted wilds of Utah, the X-files team stumbles upon more than they bargained for, including the indomitable Alex Krycek.





	Dream Brother I thru III (5/7)

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Dream Brother by Tabby

Scully went back into the kitchen and made more noise while Mulder lay around, thinking. Eventually he got up and joined Scully in the kitchen.

"Hi, Mulder. Feeling better?" she asked.

"Yeah, I guess. Can't stop thinking about him," he said.

"Which 'him' him?"

"Well, both of 'em, actually. They come together," he said solemnly.

Scully giggled and dropped her frypan. "Oh...sorry, Mulder. You really didn't like that linoleum, did you?"

"What ARE you trying to do in here, Scully?"

"Set off all the smoke alarms at once," she mumbled.

"There aren't any. I had 'em dismantled years ago."

She thought she'd leave that one alone. "So Mulder," she asked breezily, "still thinking of offing the old man?"

"Fuck yeah," he said. "Every minute of every day I'm not with Alex."

Not for the first time in her life nor the last, Scully cursed the name of Alex Krycek. To herself, of course. Out loud, she said, "I know you miss him a lot...we all do!"

Mulder smirked, scratched his back. "No, you don't. You've never forgiven him for getting to me first, Scully."

Scully banged the meat tenderizer with excessive force on the round steak. "What? I can't hear you!" she called, pounding with abandon. Mulder smiled. Poor Scully! She'd been sweet on him a long time. He supposed that grounded, practical White was really her second choice.

"I could say," she yelled, over the banging, "I could say that I've never forgiven him for his part in murdering my sister!"

"Aw, that was Luis Cardinale, Scully," he hollered back.

"Luis Cardinale pulled the trigger! Alex Krycek was present!" Pound, pound, pound.

"Hey, you've already told Alex you've forgiven him! How many times does he have to ask?" Mulder yelled.

"Well, I haven't forgiven him for killing your father!" Pound, pound, pound.

"That's for me to forgive, and I forgave him a long time ago!"

"I can still be mad about it!" Pound, pound, pound.

"Anyway, Bill Mulder wasn't even my father!" 

She paused in the pounding, shot him a venomous look. "Your father is the man who raises you! I don't care about genes! Sure, that guy you call 'Dad' so facetiously was the sperm donor, little more. And he gave the order to have Bill Mulder killed."

"That's my mother's lover you're talking about, there," said Mulder mildly. "Let's not fight, Scully! I can't help who I'm related to and who I'm not!"

She looked at him. "Of course you can't!" she said, coming to him and hugging him. "I'm sorry, Mulder. Oops, I've gotten flour all over you!"

"Doesn't matter," said Mulder. "I've often been accused of being too flowery anyway!"

************************************************************************

Mahdib's training was rigorous but succinct. After a month, if she passed, her courses, she would be able to qualify as a full-fledged agent. She was excited by the prospect of working in the field on the right side of the law. She was very grateful to Mulder, Scully and White for their talks with A.D. Skinner, convincing him that hiring her was a good thing to do.

Every day after her classes, she swam and worked out in the on-site facilities. She ran into Mulder and Scully here, too, and it was very cozy and pleasant, talking to them. She'd dyed her hair back to its natural raven hue and her striking looks invited many comments. She'd really only love one man, though, and she thought often and wistfully of him. Alex. Face facts, Alex is gay, and was incapable of loving a woman that way. Still, it seemed as though he'd cared for her when they were dating. Oh, it was all so confusing.

She had several pictures of him in a photo album, very young, very beautiful. She looked them over and decided there should be more.

************************************************************************

"I think we won't go out tonight, Alex," the man said casually. "We'll just call room service. Do you have any idea of what you want to eat?"

"Um, a grilled cheese sandwich, fries, vanilla milkshake."

"Really? Then that is what you shall have."

At 4 o'clock the Smoking Man received a call from the First Elder of the Consortium. "You want me back? What if I don't want to go back?...You have, really? Let me hear about it!...Oh really!... How interesting! Yes, I'll rejoin the group, as soon as I get back to the States...yes, he's here; do you want to talk to him?...All right, I'll tell him."

"Trouble's a-brewing, Alex. We may have to cut our trip short."

"Oh? What kind of trouble?"

"Alien trouble, sounds like."

Krycek wrinkled his brow. "You mean we went to all that trouble to send them into the next dimension, and now they come flying back?"

"Those aliens may not have come back. In fact, if they had, I'd be one of the first to know. This concerns an alien bounty hunter."

"Ugh, green fizzing blood and all."

"Yes. Your White friend actually recovered the corpse and ID'd it as alien."

"Oh. Shit," Krycek said, crestfallen. I don't want to go back yet!"

"Well, we may not have to. It all depends."

"Depends on what?"

"On whether the aliens we made the pact with show up."

"Oh. Hm. I was hoping to see Fiji."

"Oh, I think in all likelihood you will. Oh, here's our dinner!"

Krycek ate his cheese sandwich with gusto, all the fries and drank the milk shake till he was making noises at the bottom of the glass.

"Alex, you can have another one, or as many as you like, you know."

"Thanks, but I need to watch my waistline!"

"I'm watching it for you, and it looks good, like the rest of you, Alex."

"Thank you! Now, how am I gonna be able to appear in public with these bruises?"

"There's a little store about a block from here. They carry cosmetics; I'll just get something to cover the marks."

"Oh, not makeup again!"

"It won't kill you. What's the alternative?"

"I know, we can't advertise the fact that you've been beating up on me."

The Old Man sighed. "I know, and believe me, I'm very sorry about what I did, Alex. I hope I can convince you of that some day."

"If you were truly sorry, you'd let me talk to Mulder."

"Now, you know that's one of the ground rules, not having any contact with him. And what you just did was manipulative, Alex."

Pot calling the kettle black, Krycek thought furiously.

************************************************************************

"Hey, Langly."

"Frohike." Langly came out from behind the bank of computers, chewing a Tootsie Roll. 

"What's up, Froggy?"

"Hey, do you think we'll be able to help Scully and Mulder on their new case?"

"We don't know, said Byers, looking between two monitors. "He hasn't called us yet. We don't even know what the case is about."

"I do know it's very hush-hush," said Langly. "I talked to Mulder yesterday, and he wouldn't say a word about it."

"Hm," said Frohike. "These are always the cases that interest me the most. Mysterious cases. Aliens and Peyton Place."

"Hell, we had Peyton Place, and worse, two months ago when we had no aliens..." said Langly.

"Yes, we had supernatural fireworks, magic spells, teleportation...It was fun! Then the stuff with Krycek! Ye gods!"

"Yeah, and that's still going on! All the fighting, the beatings, and the melodrama...well, it serves him right for being queer."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Frohike.

"Well, he wouldn't be in the pickle he's in, would he, if he weren't gay?"

"Yeah well, you can say the same thing about his looks!"

"You're saying you find him attractive, Froggy?"

Frohike rolled his eyes. "Please! I'm just saying he's good-looking! And it's like saying the David is a nice sculpture!"

Byers looked at them. "He's right, Krycek is very good-looking."

"Wish I had some of those looks!" said Frohike mournfully.

"Froggy, look at all the suffering those looks have gotten him! I'll bet he wishes he were more average-looking."

"Still, he gets a lot of attention! Rich old man to squire him around, buy him anything he wants! Rumor has it he's got a 30-carat emerald and a lot of money in the bank!"

Langly chewed his Tootsie Roll. "So, Frohike, what you're saying is, you'd like a rich old man to pay YOU some attention?"

"Not an old man! But maybe an old woman," he said, straightening his vest with dignity.

************************************************************************

Mulder and Scully had an early dinner: VERY tender round steak, pasta with Alfredo sauce, salad, French bread. "Hey, this is pretty good, Scully!" Mulder remarked, in wonder. "Has White been giving you cooking lessons?"

"No one needs to tell me how to cook!" she said, winking.

He grinned. "So, Scully, tell me, if you'd gotten hold of me first, what would you have done with me?"

She blushed a little. "Um," she said, cutting a chunk of round steak.

"Oh, that good, huh? Yeah, I thought so! I bet you're good, too!" She went scarlet.

"That's the thing about redheads, you can always read their emotions," he said, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of bread.

"Isn't this great?" she asked. "You and me; just like the old days!"

"What old days? B.W.? B.K.?"

"Yeah, I guess that's what I mean," she said nostalgically. "Before my boyfriend. Before your boyfriend. Before the ... tangled webs we weave, of relatedness and relationships."

He nodded gravely, forking salad. "If I had my druthers, certain people would not be in my life at all. But then, I wouldn't have certain other people."

She rolled her eyes. "No shit! Funny how things in life work out that way. Having to take the good with the bad, and all that?"

"Scully, did you mean all that about hating Alex?

"Oh, I don't hate the man, although if I did, I'd certainly have my reasons! I'm just mad at him. You know, not the least of my reasons is because you get so messed-up around him!"

"Well, I wouldn't," he said aggrieved, "if the situation would be as it should be! I can't even TALK to Alex! I can't even INSTANT MESSAGE him!"

"You know," Scully said, pointing her fork at him, "every time you try something like that, you put Alex in danger! Have you considered that? All these years, and I think you still don't get who you're dealing with here! He, your father, could have had you killed, could have killed you himself..."

"I'm his son," said Mulder, aggrieved, stuffing some bowtie pasta in.

"He killed his other son," she said swiftly. "Remember? Shot him point-blank, Mulder. In the face. Blood and brains splattered all over the office."

"Hey, I'm eating here," said Mulder, chewing.

"I'm not finished," she said. "He could at any time decide you're too big a pain in the ass to keep around, Mulder, then there'd be no escaping him. He'd hunt you down like that!" She clapped her hands.

"He's not gonna do it," he said sullenly.

************************************************************************

Mahdib played idly on her computer, chatting with friends she'd made around the globe and eating carrot and celery sticks out of a glass bowl. Although she was very slim, she was officially Watching Her Weight, just in case Krycek should see her at some point. On impulse, she did a search on Krycek's name, coming up with "." So! She now knew how to get hold of him! She paused, her chin in her hands. What should she say? She brought up her email screen. 

"Dear Alex," she began, and paused again, reaching for a carrot stick. "How are you? I just thought I'd drop you a line. I'm re-integrating myself back into FBI society, pursuing a career as a Federal agent. I was very fortunate to land the position, and even then I've had to undergo training again. Scully, Mulder and White are to thank for my being hired; and Skinner, of course. I am really very grateful, of course.

Now, how have you been doing? I'm sure you are enjoying the islands very much. I've never been there, just to Hawaii, but I can just imagine what they're like. I hear you're there with a friend. Is he treating you right? Rumor has it he's got a bad temper." And kills people when he's mad, she thought. And even when he's not mad. "Well, anyway, Alex, I hope you're having a good time. Much love, Mahdib Abdul."

She paused and amended the name to "Melinda Habriz," just in case. Krycek knew the alias but she doubted the Old Man did.

***********************************************************************

The Old Man was up before Krycek, cleaning out his email and doing other mundane tasks before his young lover awakened. Of course, he went into Krycek's email and smirked when he came to the letter from Abdul. "Melinda Habriz," huh? What an obvious alias! The bitch was in the FBI now - BACK in the FBI, was more like it --amazing that they'd taken her back! Where she has already betrayed many secrets, he thought. No need for his darling Ratboy to see this. He clicked the "delete" key and the email was gone forever.

Across the room, Krycek was awakening, making his sexy little morning noises, little moans and grunts and yawns. "What're you doing?" he called sleepily. "C'mere!" 

The man did not need to be encouraged. How beautiful the boy looked, he thought, his bronzed body, complete with tan lines, bare, his pretty face soft with sleep, a long lock of hair falling over one beryl eye. He had an early-awakening erection that required attention, too.

Afterward, they got up slowly and headed for the shower. Standing under the sluicing water, the man remarked, "We're all out of your shampoo; we'll have to use mine." 

"Well, shit oh God!" said Krycek. "Get 'em to send some more over!"

"I don't know whether the store here carries it."

"Well, get 'em to FLY some more over, then!" Krycek said.

They ate breakfast at the Cafe Fare, at a table under the waving palms, Krycek dripping with emeralds, the CSM's arm around him. The waiters were beginning to get used to this sight, but they still talked among themselves. "Regardez-vous!" one young waitress said. "Every day they come in and sit there, the old man and the young! I've seen kept men before, but none so beautiful as that!"

"Je sais," her cousin, a busgirl, sighed. "Il est beau! How did they ever get hooked up, I wonder?"

The older man motioned her over casually. "Je parle Francais," he said to her. 

She blushed deep crimson under her tanned skin. "Oh, Monsieur, je suis tres je regrette beaucoup! Ca new va plus se repeter!"

"C'est bon," he said. "Prenez soin que ca ne recommence pas!

Krycek listened to the interchange, grinning. "You ought to be happy that everyone seems to find me so attractive," he said.

The man cut into his Eggs Benedict. "I don't want any of those young chickies getting their hooks into you!"

"That's unlikely, seeing as how I'm gay," Krycek said.

The man shook his head. "You didn't use to be."

"Don't be so insecure!" Krycek said. "Here," he said, draping himself around the man and kissing him. "How's this?"

"That's better," he said, somewhat mollified. "Try the breadfruit, Alex. It's really good."

"Ugh, for breakfast?" asked Alex Krycek.

************************************************************************

Mulder had a rough night. He dreamt of Krycek, embarking on a boat that would take him away from him, and the boat slowly gaining speed, his lover standing in back, waving to him, getting smaller and smaller...he woke up and had to pee. From dint of long habit, he left the door open. Scully, standing at the door, remarked, "Don't miss, OK? I cleaned that bathroom when I put you to bed and I have to share it with you!"

"Nag, nag, nag," he said, but he smiled. There really was no one on Earth like Scully, his best bud. And there's no one like Alex, either, he thought, flopping back in bed. Surprised, he found that he had a hard-on. Can't let that go to waste, he thought. He looked into the darkness and as he stroked himself he thought of Alex, Alex's lips and tongue on his cock, and he came, grunting and straining upward, seeing himself come in Alex's mouth.

The light came on. "What're you doing, Mulder?"

"Hey! I'm jacking off in here! Can't a guy get any privacy?"

She looked at him and went to the bathroom for a hand towel. "Here!" she said, throwing it to him. As he wiped himself and the bed off, she sat on the bed and looked at him. "I've been thinking," she said.

"Yeah?"

"Number one, about that alien thing. It really worries me."

"Yeah, well, you know we haven't gotten any reports of any alien ships around here, and if there were, Skinner would surely have told us."

"Unless someone got to him first," she said darkly.

"I think Someone is otherwise occupied," he said glumly. "I haven't heard of him bugging Skinner or anyone else in the FBI, lately."

"They might not tell you, you know."

"I'm supposed to be the paranoid one, here, Scully!" he laughed. "Don't worry about it! This alien bounty hunter could be an isolated occurrence!"

"Yeah, could be," she said, biting a nail.

"You'll ruin your nice manicure," he observed. "Anyway, what was the other thing?"

"We really need to get you a nice boyfriend, Mulder," she said suddenly. "We really do!"

He sighed, lay back in bed. "I've got my five best friends to keep me company."

She laughed. "You need a relationship, Mulder."

"I've got a relationship!"

"Yeah, and he's in a relationship with another man."

"I can't be unfaithful to him!"

"Why not? He's unfaithful to you!" she said, and clapped her hand over her mouth, as though to recall the unfortunate words.

Mulder rolled his eyes. "Only because he HAS to be!"

"Well, you have to be, too, for your mental health! Go out and find someone who looks like him, have a good time!"

"No one looks like him," he said.

************************************************************************

"So," said the First Elder. "It is decided then, that we go?"

"I think it is the prudent course of action," said the Second Elder.

"I think it's crazy," said the Well-Manicured Man, crossing his legs and sipping at his White Russian. "But I'll go along with the group consensus. We can use a nice vacation, anyway."

"I've already had my girl make the arrangements," offered the Second Elder. "We leave tonight at 3 AM. Is everyone agreeable to this?"

Many nodding heads gave the assent.

The WMM looked heavenward. "What we're going to find there, I can only guess," he said.

************************************************************************

At 12 noon, Krycek, collecting shells at the water's edge for the Old Man, was approached by an older man wearing a business suit. "You'll get that wet," he said idly, and then glanced at the man's face. He looked at him hard and shook his head. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked. "This is supposed to be our vacation!" 

"Well, good afternoon to you, too, Alex!" the man said. "We're here to meet with your boss. Where is he?"

Krycek scowled at him. "He's at the bungalow," he said, "and he's sound asleep, and don't bug him!"

My, but these two had grown close, the WMM thought. "Which one? If you don't tell me, I can easily find out!"

"Well, I'm not telling you!" said Krycek stubbornly.

The WMM looked at Krycek closely. Were those bruises, showing faintly under his tan? Spender was still beating him? For what Earthly reason? Mulder was half a world away.

The WMM moved easily up the beach and conferred with a cocktail waitress. "What bungalow is C.G.B. Spender in?" he asked, slipping her $500. "Two hundred," she said, "that one!"

He knocked on the door. "Who is it?"

"It is I, your old associate."

"Come in. The door's unlocked." He was sitting up in bed, yawning. "What do you want?"

"I thought that if we couldn't get you home, we'd come and meet with you here!"

"Oh, well, how nice, I guess. Sit down, pour yourself a drink."

Krycek came through the door, looking hard at the WMM, then went and sat on the bed next to the Old Man, leaning on him, kissing him. The WMM looked back at Krycek just as hard because there was something...something...good God! he thought. The boy has two arms! 

"You're looking at my arm," said Krycek matter-of-factly. "It's a marvel of engineering from Stanford University."

"But, my God, man! It looks perfectly natural!"

"Oh, it is! It's real flesh and bone, constructed and cloned mostly from me."

The WMM shook his head. His intelligence had not included this! "Its technology must be amazing!"

"So what do you want to meet with me about?" the Old Man asked.

"We wanted to talk about the alien bounty hunter," said the WMM bluntly.

"What do you wish to say? Sweetheart, mix me a whisky sour," he said to Krycek, who got up and went to the wet bar. "Plenty of sugar, Alex!"

"Thanks," he said, handed the drink. "Now go in the other room, go to the beach or something, Alex." Krycek obediently went out the door to the beach. As he walked past the bar he was handed a Margarita by a pretty waiter. "Vous sont tres beau!" he said reverently to Krycek, who smiled. "Et vous," he said. The waiter followed him a little way onto the sand. "Vous venez danser ce soir?" "Je ne le manquerais pour rien au monde!"

Krycek picked up a complimentary beach towel and lay on the sand, his eyes shaded by his cool sunglasses. There were a few body-boarders and he recognized Giselle among them. She was just about the prettiest girl he'd ever seen, save Rose of Sharon, but she didn't do a thing for him. This was fortunate. He'd already had lessons regarding Mulder at the end of a fist. She ran up to him, though, wet and dripping, laughing over something a friend had said. 

"Mon ami Aleex! We now know vous parlez Francais! Bon jour! Comment ca va?"

"Comme ci, comme ca," he said, amused. "Et vous?"

"Pas mal!" she said. "L'eau c'est jolie ce jour, oui?"

"Oui," he said, smiling. "C'est vraiment!"

Mais, je l'aime aussi bien que vous."

She fetched a towel and lay down next to him. "est-ce que vous me trouvez jolie?" she asked.

"Oui, certainement!" he said. "Mais, je suis gay, comme je vous ti avais dit!"

"C'est mal! Mais, je peutetre je pourrai vous faire!"

He laughed. "Non, peu probable!"

"L'Homme, il est votre amour?" she asked, referring to the Old Man.

"Oui," he responded.

"Ah, ce n'est pas bon!" she said, scowling. "Vous, vous devez d'avoir la femme beaute."

He turned over on his towel.

"Est-ce que vous voulez que je vous met de l'huile sur le dos!"

"D'accord" he said, glancing around. "Vous allez-y."

She rubbed tanning oil on his back. He had a very beautiful back, she thought, although there were a few scars, and some on his left arm, near the scapula and clavicle. Wonder how he got them?

"Ou est-ce que vous avez appri le francais?"

"A la Russe," he said.

"Vous avez Russee?" she asked in surprise, now rubbing oil on his legs, his beautiful legs.

"Oui, je suis," he answered. 

"Parlez-vous d'autres langues?"

"Oui, Russe, Ispahn, Allemande."

"Vous avez tres intelligente!"

"Non!" he laughed, "just well-traveled"

"Turn over so I can do your front. L'homme, est-ce qui'il vous paye bien?"

"Tres bon."

He and the girl were so engrossed in their conversation that he did not notice the approach of the Old Man. "Alexei." he said, lighting a cigarette, "Get up and let's get something to eat!"

"Oh," said Krycek stupidly. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you coming."

"It's all right, Alex. Just come with me." To the girl, he said "Giselle! Tu est pas ne arnetez de lui parler! Don't let it happen again or I will report you!"

"Je regrette beaucoup!" she said, hanging her head. "Mais, il est tres beau!"

He laughed. "Oui, il est! Now, come on, Alex. Leave the towel there. They'll pick it up."

"All right," he said, caught up with his master and took his hand.

************************************************************************

It was a slow day at the office. Scully went through some files while Mulder played. He stuck pushpins in his erasers, threw them at his bulletin board, and discovered how many rubber bands he could get to stick in the acoustical tile ceiling.

"Mulder, what are you doing?" she asked, irritably, when a rubber band fell on her papers. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"There's really nothing to do," he said. "If you can think of something, you tell me."

"You can look through these files like I'm doing."

"Have you found anything enlightening?"

"Nope," she sighed, stretching. "Nothing."

"Well, see?" he said, launching a pushpin with a rubber-band slingshot.

"You're gonna put your eye out, Mulder. Or mine."

"Naw, not with your reading glasses on."

"Were you an ADHD kid, Mulder?"

He grinned. "Treat you to lunch."

"It's 7 AM, Mulder!"

"Well, breakfast, then!"

"All right," she said, closing the file. "Let's go eat!"

They ate at a Denny's. Mulder had a Grand-Slam and Scully, toast and coffee.

"You're gonna shrivel up and blow away in the wind," he remarked.

"I'm on a diet, as of now."

"What for? Is White telling you you're fat?" he asked incredulously.

"No, I'm trying to get down to my ideal weight," she said, sipping her coffee.

"Which is?" he asked, forking eggs.

"Hundred," she said.

"Oh, it is not! You should weigh at least 110!"

"Mulder, don't you think I'm familiar with the height/weight charts?"

"Well, so, you're gonna be acting or modeling or something?"

"No, I just want to START at that weight," she said, delicately nibbling at her sourdough toast.

"Start wh-- Oh," he said, comprehension sinking in. "Scully, you're not pregnant?"

"No," she said, "Not yet. But I will be, one of these days."

"That's great! That would make White very happy," he said, chewing on a sausage.

"Well, hell, it would make ME very happy!" she said, smiling.

"So Scully."

"So Mulder."

"Tell me the truth about something. If you had your druthers, would you rather it had been me?"

She gaped at him. "You have a big ego, Mister!"

"Well, is it true?" he asked, swallowing the last of his eggs.

"Well," she said slowly, "David and I are in love -- my God, back in July? There were enough sparks flying between us to start the world's biggest bonfire -- but, Mulder, I have always liked you. A lot. Look how handsome you are! And you are so bright, and so different! I almost died when I saw you holding hands with Diana Fowley, the bitch!"

Mulder grinned. "You saw that, huh?"

"Yes, I did, and it tore me apart! And then when I found out you'd been involved with Alex Krycek, I thought I'd died and gone to Hell. Then there were some years when you didn't see him -- at least I THINK you didn't see him," she said, fixing him with a look, "and I kept wishing, hoping for some sign from you. And then last summer, when I saw you transfixed by him at the camp. I knew then, knew that you loved him, and that I didn't have a chance." She took a big bite of toast, chased it with lukewarm coffee.

"Scully, I know the truth about the mental hospital," he said suddenly.

She looked at him oddly. "What do you mean?"

"Sharon told me. It was my father who ordered my confinement, to try to get me away from Alex. He visited me there, brought me stuff."

Scully looked down. "You were never to know that," she said softly. "Never to know who was responsible."

"Well, I know it. It actually made me feel a lot better to know that it was Machiavelli and not you!"

She laughed. "I'm glad! Anyway, thought any more about what I said last night?"

"The boyfriend thing? Do you want me to get AIDS or something, Scully?"

She waved her hand. "Practice safe sex! The kind I bet you don't practice with him!"

"Well, I couldn't, at the sex rite thing, could I?"

She shook her head, remembering. "You guys...you even made your robes wet!"

"It was raining," he said with dignity.

************************************************************************

After a leisurely lunch of grilled mahi-mahi, the two strolled arm-in-arm to the base of the volcano. "It's pretty here," Krycek remarked. "Are there trails up the volcano?"

"Well, they're pretty steep, but there are some. You're welcome to try them!"

"You should exercise more," said Krycek. "I read of a study finding that people who smoke, who exercise, live longer than people who don't smoke, who don't exercise."

"Was it done with a multivariate analysis?"

"Hell, I don't know," Krycek said. "It's a good question. It would've had to've been, though. Look at the sailboats in the lagoon!"

On their way down, they met several hikers on the way up, geared up for a serious hike with packs and hiking boots. One woman turned and pulled her sunglasses down her nose, checking Krycek out. He smiled and winked at her, and she stopped, but the Old Man steered him down the trail. "Would you cut that out?" he asked pleasantly. "You don't even like girls!"

"Yeah, I know," Krycek said lazily. "That's what makes it fun! What'd you guys talk about, anyway?"

"Stupid things," said the man.

"Is the whole Consortium here?"

He nodded unwillingly. "Watch out for that tree root, Alex!"

"Yeah...What do they want? What's with this alien bounty hunter?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that with you."

Krycek turned his large deep-green black-fringed eyes on his master. "I'm your lover," he purred. "Your one and only! You can tell me anything!"

The Smoking Man smirked. "I know you! It would get right back to Fox Mulder! I know he's seen the bounty hunter's corpse, but I don't want him to learn more than he absolutely has to."

"Oh," said Krycek, not knowing what else to say, and they continued down the steep hill in silence.

************************************************************************

Mahdib received no answer to her email to "Ratboy," and this bothered her. She knew that in the past, well, rather the distant past now, he'd been very punctual about returning correspondence. She wondered about the situation with Spender. Was he the one keeping Alex from the computer? She blitzed off another email: 

"Dear Alex, are you OK? I'm beginning to worry about you! Please respond to my email ASAP. Thank you! Much love, Mahdib."

Leaning back in her chair, she noticed that a ceiling tile was water-stained and needed to be replaced. Well, she was living here free, after all.

Someone knocked on her door and the chair came back to Earth with a thump. 

"Who is it?" she called.

"Scully," came the muffled reply.

Mahdib got up and let her in. "Why, Agent Scully, what a nice surprise!"

Scully took in the bare-bones condition of the apartment, wondered how much "Scimitar" was getting paid, decided it wasn't as much as the Consortium had paid her, and nodded. "Thank you!" she said. "I'm just here to tell you something."

"Yes? Have a seat!" 

Scully sat gingerly on the faded couch. "Well, I don't know exactly how you'll take this," she said, "but I've got news for you: starting this coming Monday, you'll be working with Mulder and me on an X-Files case."

Mahdib shouted with joy. "Oh, that's wonderful!" she said, and hugged Scully. "That's just super! I'm so happy!"

"Well, I'm glad you are," said Scully, "but I have a feeling it's going to be a very rough ride. As usual, we're going to be opposing some formidable forces, including the Consortium, which you worked for, and now they've got the Smoking Man back again...have you any idea of the gravity of the situation?"

"Yes, I can imagine," said Mahdib. "I fought him in the last war," she added, smiling faintly.

"You'll be sworn in tomorrow morning. Be at Skinner's office, 8:00 sharp, OK?"

"Wow!" said Mahdib. "This is so fabulous!"

Scully smiled. "I'm glad you think so. I think, with your experience, you'll be a valuable addition to our team. We'll even make room in our dark, dank basement office for you."

"I've seen your office, and I think it's 'way cool'," said the Persian girl, smiling prettily.

"Well, I've got to go," said Scully, rising from the couch. "Let me give you my cell phone number. Call me at any time. I'm staying at Mulder's for the time being."

Mahdib raised her eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Yeah. David's OK with it. Right now Mulder needs lots of emotional support, and I'm trying to give it to him. You can visit us if you like. This is the address: 2630 Hegal Place, number 42, in Alexandria. In fact, why don't you come for dinner tomorrow night? I'm making spaghetti."

"Thanks! I will!" said Mahdib, gratefully. "Scully, you and the bunch are so good to me!"

"Well, why shouldn't we be?"

************************************************************************

The CSM had another meeting with the Consortium in the afternoon, and the suite was filled. Krycek mixed the initial drinks then was told to go play. Left to his own devices, he hiked pretty far up the volcano, took some pictures with the Nikon digital camera and walked back down. He passed a handsome young blond man on the way up. The man continued walking for about half a block, then Krycek heard his running footsteps catching him up. "Comment ca va?" Krycek asked him.

The man smiled at him warmly. "Are you French? I don't speak it!"

Krycek switched to English. "I said 'how are you'."

"I'm fine, and you?"

"Pretty well. This islet sure is gorgeous, isn't it?"

"Oh, it is. My name is Bob, by the way."

"Alex." They shook hands.

"Are you staying at the Meridien?" the man asked hopefully.

"Yes. Watch that tree root!"

"May I have your phone number, Alex?"

Krycek shook his head, smiling. "Someone else generally answers the phone."

The man looked crestfallen. "Your girlfriend? I've misread you?"

Krycek grinned. "I'm queer, if that's what you mean! Look, we're almost at the bottom now."

"So it's your boyfriend?"

"Sort of. It's the man who keeps me."

Bob whistled. "Well, I can't blame him! You're the prettiest man I've ever seen! Is there ever a time when he's out?"

"Nope. He keeps me on a TIGHT leash! I mean, tight."

Comprehension dawned in the man. "Oh! I've seen you two in the Otemanu! You two were all over each other."

"Yes," Krycek nodded. "It's an act, and I'm a good actor!"

"Wow! You certainly are! Well, I guess we part ways. My bungalow's over there. Number 113, if you're interested. I would love a visit from you."

"Well, the Boss Man would kill me if I messed around. But thanks for the offer." They shook hands and went their separate ways. Krycek ran up the steps to the bungalow and listened at the door. They were still there, so he went to the beach, first accepting a Mai Tai from the French-speaking waiter and obtaining a towel. He stripped off shirt and shorts and nearly caused a nearby middle-aged man to have a heart attack. Down to his swimsuit, which wasn't much of anything at all, he chased the ebbing waves and plunged into the warm, warm water. He was a strong swimmer; he swam 100 yards or so out and tread water, looking around at the sailboats. From here, he got a good view of the volcano. It was imposing, and he could well believe that the natives had once worshipped it.

He swam back and located his towel and drink. Plopping down on the towel, he took a good swig of his Mai Tai, which was strong.

"I wouldn't drink too much of that and try to swim," a man nearby remarked. Annoyed, he looked at the speaker; it was the middle-aged man he'd noticed when he was changing clothes.

"I'm a very good swimmer," he told the man, "and who are you, anyway?"

"A potential friend," he was told. "My name's Larry."

Oh, now that was a sexy name. "Mine's Alex," he said, and turned away.

"Well, Alex, you're very handsome. In fact, I've never seen the like of you."

Krycek sighed. He was beginning to tire of this. "Yeah?" he said.

"I'd like to be your boyfriend. I notice you keep company with that old guy who smokes."

Krycek giggled. The Mai Tai was beginning to take effect. "Yeah."

"Is he your lover? Sure looks like it."

"Yes, he is," said Krycek. "AND he's extremely jealous."

"Well, I'm prepared to make you, and him, an offer. I am very wealthy, Alex. I could buy him off."

Krycek burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" the man asked.

"You are, to think you can get me that way. Or any way. I'm telling you, there's no way."

"We'll see about that! Are you going to the dance tonight?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Well, I'll see you there," Larry said, and left him.

************************************************************************ 

"What everyone wants to know is whether the appearance of this alien bounty hunter is just an isolated occurrence, or whether there are more. We also need to know whether the other aliens have shown up somewhere, so that we may pursue this. Does anyone have any input?" the First Elder asked.

"Yes. Where did he get his arm?" asked the Second Elder.

"From Stanford." said the Smoking Man smoothly.

"Stanford doesn't have that kind of technology!" said the Well-Manicured Man irritably.

"Yes, they do," said the CSM, and lit a Morley. "But we're not here to talk about Alex, are we?"

Silence. "I think, I think the armed forces are hiding something from me, from us, and I believe we'd better find out what. They've been taking advantage of me because I'm here, and of you because you've been bereft of me! To that end, I'm flying out tomorrow and I advise you to do the same," he said, flicking ash into an ashtray.

"I believe it is wise," the First Elder said slowly, "though I would have liked to have seen more of Tahiti!"

"Gentlemen, business before pleasure, and anyone who regards me as a hypocrite is free to do so! We're flying to the States tomorrow at 10 AM. I believe there are still vacant seats on the plane, although perhaps not in first class."

"You are a hypocrite!" the WMM blurted out. "While we've been sweating bullets over the alien bounty hunter, whose corpse was not disposed of properly, you've been drinking Mai Tais and shagging your houseboy!"

The Smoking Man gave the WMM one of his infamous dirty looks. "Number one, you wouldn't be saying that, if it were a woman. Number two: My sexual preference is none of your business! Number three, this 'houseboy' you malign is still a very dangerous spy! How soon you forget the number of people he's assassinated, the hideous and bloody nature of his most recent kill, in which he performed vivisection on one of your operatives who couldn't cut the mustard! If I wanted one of you dead, I'd send Alex to do it, and he would!"

The WMM cleared his throat. "Er...I'm sorry! I was out of line." He thought, he's sensitive about his relationship with Krycek. He's insecure. This guy, insecure?

"It's all right," said the Smoking Man magnanimously. "You're forgiven. Now, gentlemen, I believe Alex has kindly prepared a tray or two of hors d'oeuvres. They're in the kitchen. I'm afraid Alex isn't here to serve them."

************************************************************************

Afternoon shadows lengthened quickly into dusk, which darkened into evening. The dance floor at the Cafe Fare was decorated with lights, and the band warmed up. They began playing some old sentimental number, and people moved gradually from the tables to the floor. Krycek took the Old Man by the hand and danced a waltz with him, dipping and twirling gracefully and touching him seductively. They weren't the only gay couple there, but they were the only ones as open about it as these two were. The WMM watched from the sidelines, smoking, nursing a drink and rolling his eyes, though it was too dark to tell. 

He was joined shortly by the First Elder. "All the intelligence, all the rumors underestimated the extent of this," he said. "He can still think, though, that much is true."

"For God's sake...the question is, which head is he thinking with? Look at them!" he said, indicating the two dancers with his hand.

The First Elder never laughed. "He's very involved, very much in love with the boy. We've known or suspected this for years. It hasn't affected his judgement, as far as we can tell."

On the floor, Krycek and the CSM danced two more dances, one of them a tango. How Alex knew how to play the female part, he'd never know, but he did so admirably. Then the Smoking Man leaned forward, whispering to Krycek. "OK, thanks, I'll stay out here and dance," Krycek said, smiling. There was a rush of would-be partners for the next dance, male and female. Amused, Krycek picked the Embarrassed French Waitress. The dance turned out to be rock, from the eighties, The Reflex. The waitress danced enthusiastically for a while, then it became apparent that she could not keep up with Krycek, and she gradually backed away. Krycek danced all by himself, caught up in his own ecstatic rhythm, with the graceful, confident moves of a pro. When the song ended he ran up to the band with his requests. They began a fairly faithful rendition of "How Soon is Now," the gay man's paean to loneliness, and again he was deluged by offers. This time he accepted the invitation of the Bob he'd met earlier in the day, and again danced so well that his partner backed away. In fact, the entire gathering gradually gave way to watch him, and he danced alone on the floor.

The two men at the table were joined by a third, who lit a cigarette. "Gentlemen, may I join you?" he asked.

"Please do. Your boyfr--partner is a hell of a dancer," said the Well-Manicured Man. "Has he had training?"

"Yes, he has, in Russia in his youth."

"Oh, well, no wonder. You know, I'm surprised you let him out of the house. I'm surprised he's here."

"And why would that be?" asked the Smoking Man.

"You had him on a pretty tight leash last time I saw him. In fact--well, never mind."

"In fact I chained him to a bed and beat him for attempted espionage?" the CSM asked easily. "I don't have to do that anymore. I've got him under control. Watch!"

He rose, catching the eye of the balletic dancer on the floor. He crooked his finger once, and Krycek ran up, smiling, scarcely out of breath.

"It's time to go back to our suite, Alex," the CSM said.

"OK," he said cheerfully. "Hi, guys," he said to the two men at the table. They watched as the couple walked off arm-in-arm toward their bungalow. They looked at each other and shook their heads. "Stockholm Syndrome," muttered the WMM under his breath.

"Take off your clothes, get on the bed," the CSM said brusquely, lighting a cigarette. "How do you want me?" asked Krycek. "Bend over the bed." 

"OK." He liked this position. It was one of the easiest ones to think about Mulder in. Mulder...hoo boy, sudden hard-on, bumping against the coverlet.

"Let me have that," said the Smoking Man. Damned if the guy didn't keep on smoking all during the act; he must've been using his left hand. Krycek thought of Mulder, and he moaned and groaned and came in stars and colors; as usual the CSM was about two seconds behind him.

"You are such a sexy dancer, Alex," said the man softly, his arms around Krycek. "I should amend that -- everything you do is sexy, my love."

"Thanks," said Krycek, letting his tongue run a trail down the man's chest.

"We have to get up early tomorrow. We've got to catch the flight to Tahiti at 8, thence to the States at 10 AM. We'll get there at 1 AM their time. Something extremely important's come up."

"Oh. But you promised me Fiji!" 

"And so you shall have it, if I have to buy it for you! But not just yet."

Someone knocked on the door. "Who is it?"

"A friend of Alex's," a man called.

"Oh, the hell it is! Just a minute!" the CSM threw on a robe and opened the door to a middle-aged man with blondish hair. "I'm Larry, Alex's friend."

"Alex doesn't have any friends!"

"Well, he does now! I noticed bruises on his face under that concealer he wears, and a mark on his jaw exactly in the shape of that ring you're wearing. I'm prepared to offer you a lot of money for him in exchange for my silence."

"Really?" said the Smoking Man. "Just a moment, let me get dressed. We'll discuss this further outside." He closed the door and pulled on slacks and a sweater. Krycek lay on top of the bed on his stomach, watching the man with one alert eye, like the young woman in the Gaughin painting, The Spirit of the Dead Watching. The CSM opened a drawer, pulled out a pistol and fitted a silencer to it. This he placed carefully in his waistband, pulled on a jacket to cover it. "OK, I'm ready for you," he said, opening the door.

There was a muffled "pop" which Krycek didn't even hear, and the Smoking Man sauntered back into the cabin. He punched "O" and asked for the police. "Allo? Je suis C.G.B. Spender. A man has died, outside #200...Non, je ne sais pas le methode d'emploi. Just get someone out here to properly dispose of the body. Merci."

"You kill him?" Krycek asked, consumed with curiosity. 

"You don't have a need to know," he was told.

"Good! I didn't like him at all!" he said with satisfaction. "He was creepy...don't futz around, come back to bed!"

"Wanna make love again?" Krycek asked, nuzzling him.

"Alex, you are going to be the death of me yet!"

"You don't have to do anything. Just lie back and I'll take care of you."

So this was truly Paradise, the man thought, lying on a luxurious bed in a palm-thatched hut on the most beautiful island in the world, listening to the roar of the surf, feeling the evening breeze, and having the most beautiful man in the world, the object of all his desires, the culmination of all his wishes, all his hopes, bend over him and do things to him that he'd never had done to him, that he'd only read about in books; and then coming and coming into this man's soft warm mouth, and truly knowing the existence of God.

************************************************************************

Mulder sat bolt upright in bed. "Alex is back," he said to the empty air. He got up and looked down the hall; Scully's light was on. She wasn't sleeping well, missing White something fierce, he imagined. "Scully!" he whispered, creeping to her door. She was awake, reading files, but looked up as he entered, glancing at him over the rims of her reading glasses. "You'll have to speak up, Mulder," she said.

"You're not supposed to take those from the office," he observed, looking at the files. She yawned and stretched. "These are photocopies. I had to have something to do at night, now that I'm not attempting to make a baby on a regular basis."

He grinned. "You'll have lots more opportunities!" he said, tweaking her toe.

"So what's up, Mulder? You have that lost puppy-dog, I-want-Alex look about you."

"He's back," he said, sitting down on her bed. "And where are my sunflower seeds?"

"Where you left 'em. Here!" she leaned over the bed and picked them up, tossed them to him. "Now what's this about his being back? Did he call you?"

"Nope, contacted me via Muldar. Seriously, two people who are very close develop heightened senses, a sort of shared ESP. And he's back."

She made her lips into an "o" and raised her brows. "If true, this isn't all good news, Mulder. It means that somebody else is also back. And our investigation, which is just about to take off, is gonna get screwed in the -- sorry, Mulder!"

He grinned, chewing a seed. "'s all right! But you're right," he said, becoming serious. "You're right. You're always right, you know that?" he asked solemnly, spitting a hull in her direction.

"Mulder! Pick that up! Ye gods, what a slob! I'm afraid, Mulder, I'm really afraid."

"Why?" [chew, spit]

"Because, like any normal human being I'm afraid of an alien invasion! And I'm afraid of the Consortium's making another pact with the aliens to deliver -- Mulder, what that man did to his own wife and daughter was beyond the pale! I could never, ever get over that! Poor Cassandra Spender! What the aliens are doing to her now doesn't bear thinking about! And your poor sister! --"

Mulder's jaw tightened. "That's dear old Dad," he finally said, and whether it was said facetiously, angrily, ironically or philosophically she could not tell.

"He does what he wants, he takes what he wants--"

"Not to mention, whom he wants," said Mulder glumly, cracking open a seed.

"Whom he wants, he --"

"Yeah, we know this," Mulder said. "He's a one-man-hurricane. Hey, Scully: 'you ask me, who killed the Kennedys, well after all it was you and me.'"

"Sympathy for the Devil," she said musingly. But is this germane --"

"He killed the Kennedys. And Martin Luther King, and probably many others."

She gaped at him. "Oh, my God!" she breathed. "How do you know this?"

"Found it in our C.G.B. Spender box of files, just this morning. And you thought I was just playing with rubber bands, hah!"

"But what -- what--?"

He cracked a seed. "The man's a fuckin' force of nature. And I DON'T relish fighting him yet AGAIN. In fact, I wanna give the fuck UP. I want Alex back and I DON'T want to keep battling this guy. My own FATHER. The most evil man of the last CENTURY. With the possible exceptions of Stalin, Hitler, Mussolini, Ceaucescu, and a FEW others."

"Are you upset, Mulder?" Scully asked him, removing her reading glasses. "Would you like a nice cup of hot cocoa? How about some cocoa and some Valium?"

"No, I'm not UPSET. Why would you think I was UPSET?"

"Possibly because you're yelling. I'll get you some Valium and make you that cocoa." She left and came back in a moment. "Here's a glass of water and your tranqs. Take 'em!"

He looked at them sadly before taking them. Scully left again to fix the cocoa, and on impulse, Mulder glanced at her files. One concerned a UFO sighting over Onizuka Air Force Base. That was midway between San Francisco and San Jose, he knew.

"Come out to the kitchen!" Scully called. There she'd served the cocoa in two cups which more or less matched. Mulder noticed that the kitchen, the bathroom and the livingroom all looked cleaner since she'd moved in. His bedroom, she left up to him.

"Now what I want to know," Scully asked, sipping cocoa, "is whether you still want to kill your father."

"Wow, please put it more bluntly next time, Scully!" he said, aggrieved. "I'm actually beginning to feel a little more mellow."

She grinned. "You didn't answer my question, Mulder!"

"Well, the answer is, um, could I please take a raincheck on that answer?"

"Nope. Come on, tell me the truth."

"All right. I still want to ... cut his..."

She held a hand up. "That's enough! I've heard enough! I'm going to continue staying with you for a while!"

"What does Skinner say?"

"About what? You?"

"Yeah," he said, and he took a gulp of cocoa, as though it would steady his nerves.

"Well, actually, he said..."

"Well, what? Spit it out!"

"Well, look, he said... Oh, shit, Mulder! He said he didn't blame you, OK? That he wanted to kill the guy himself!"

Mulder laughed, leaking a little cocoa out his nose. "Oops, sorry, Scully! That's just so funny! Those two go back, don't they? He's hated him all this time!"

She nodded. Then she giggled. "Poor Skinner! I really feel sorry for him!" but she was laughing, first in her feminine manner, then snortingly, till finally her face fell forward onto the placemat and her shoulders shook spasmodically. "It's just so funny!" she said, "so funny! Our lives, fate, the whole shebang!" she whooped with laughter.

The phone rang and she picked it up. "Mulder and Scully's House of Laughs," she said, still giggling.

"Scully? This is Krycek," came the familiar breathy voice, like a male Marilyn Monroe's.

"Alex? Oh my God, you ARE back!" she said, stunned out of laughter. At her elbow, Mulder was making frantic motions, and she handed him the phone.

"Oh, Alex, my darling!"

"Mulder, my angel."

"Alex, can you talk?"

"Yes, I think so. I'm standing outside freezing my ass off -- it was so warm in Tahiti! The old guy's asleep. Well, I THINK he's asleep. He's caught me so many times I've lost count."

"So you're still under ban to see me? Did you have a good time in Tahiti?"

"Yes, and yes. Mulder, if I get the impression he's waking up, I have to get off the line."

"Calling from your cell phone?"

"Yes, but that doesn't mean it's secure. Mulder, I have great news: I now have two arms!"

"What the hell? You have a prosthesis?"

"Nope, it's an actual flesh and bone arm, grown from tissue samples the Old Man extracted from me when I was unconscious. Stanford University came up with the technology."

"That's fuckin' AMAZING, Alex! I'm so happy for you!"

"Thank you! It's great, I can wear tanks and muscle shirts, and I looked good at the beach."

"Do you still love me, Alex?"

"Of course I do, Mulder," said Krycek, shivering in his jeans and leather jacket. "I love you forever, you're my one and only. Why else do I risk life and limb calling you?"

"Where are you calling from, Alex? That place in Portola Valley?"

"Yes."

"Kind of a ranch, with all your horses?"

"Most of my hor--" but he was not allowed to complete the sentence; his cell phone was plucked from his hand and ground under the foot of the Old Man.

He cupped his hands against the chill breeze, lighting a cigarette. "Caught you again, Alex," he said pleasantly. "I'll give you a bit of information: when you leave our bed, I miss you, wake up and go looking for you. And here you are, freezing to death. Come back to bed!"

"Are you gonna hit me?" Krycek.

"No. Probably not. I'm tired. I just want you to hold me. Not," he said, looking at Krycek, "that you don't richly deserve it!"

"So my sentence is commuted?"

"Hm. An interesting way to put it. It's delayed, at least. I've received some disturbing news in the night and have to fly East again, tomorrow around noon. Now, come, Alex," he said, taking his hand, "Come with me." Krycek allowed himself to be led obediently into the house, glancing at the ruined cell phone.

Krycek started to climb into bed. "No, no," the man said. "Remove your clothes. All of them." Oh-oh. Rough Sex Ahead. "Lie on your stomach, Alex." 

"Please don't hurt me," Krycek heard himself pleading. "You said you wouldn't!"

"I didn't say precisely that. Look, just once, Alex," and the man whacked him with his belt, hard, forcing a little grunt from Krycek. "That's just to remind you of how things can be if you don't cooperate!" he thundered.

"I'll cooperate," Krycek said, miserably.

"Good! And no running off to Fox Mulder as soon as I leave, or you'll get the cuffed-to-the-bed treatment again! And with two arms to cuff, it'll be really wretched, Alex, I guarantee you!"

"OK," said Krycek. You son of a bitch. Running off to Fox Mulder is EXACTLY what I'll do! He felt himself roughly taken and he closed his eyes against the pain. What happened to "darling Alex," what happened to "sweetheart," what happened to lovemaking instead of just fucking? The term, "Battered Women's Syndrome" swam through his consciousness. Is that what he had; is that what was so deadly wrong with this relationship? Whatever it was, he was so weary, so very tired of being hurt; he was so tired of being with the wrong man; and, let's face it, Tahiti was beautiful and should have made him appreciate the world around him, but there'd even been trouble in Paradise; and so he was just plain tired of life. Like a TV screen fading after the power has been turned off, his conscious mind went from colorful three-D, to two dimensions in black and white, to a one-dimensional point, finally going out with an infinitesimally small crackle.

When he awoke an hour later, he was lying on his stomach, cheek against the pillow, and the CSM was seated in a chair nearby, smoking and reading the paper. "Hey," Krycek said, "what's going on?"

The newspaper rattled as it was folded up. "I've been so worried about you! How do you feel?"

"I'm all right...my back kind of hurts, and I hurt...uh... What happened, anyway?"

The Smoking Man came and hugged him. "I hit you and it seems as though I very nearly fucked you to death!"

"Did you?" Krycek asked, genuinely puzzled. "Is that why I hurt?"

"That's why you hurt, and I'm really, really sorry I did it!"

Krycek fixed him with one large beryl eye. "Till the next time?" he asked, partly into the pillow.

"Look, Alex, I'm under tremendous pressure right now. The fate of the world hangs in the balance. That doesn't excuse what I did. I just wish...I wish you could learn to be happy with me. I can give you anything and everything you could ever want or need." 

I want Fox Mulder. You can't give me that.

"I thought that just by being apart from Mulder for a while, you would learn to love him less and me more. Now, I don't know. But I'm not willing to cut you loose, because I am so in love with you, Alex, at least as much as Fox is with you. At least."

"Oh, you hit me because you love me so much?"

"No, I hit you because I'm a jealous son-of-a-bitch! Of all the people you pick to be in love with, him! My own son!" He clenched his fists, then relaxed them, shaking his head. "If I didn't love Fox, too, he'd have been pushing up daisies years ago."

"You killed that guy, in Bora Bora, Larry, didn't you?"

Stony silence. 

"OK, so that's unofficial. I won't say anything about it. Um, to anyone."

"Doesn't matter," the man said distractedly, pushing back a stray lock of hair. "Doesn't matter who knows. It won't put me in any danger, and, quite frankly, it won't sully my lily-white reputation or stain my soul any blacker than it already is."

Krycek tried rolling over on his back but he hurt too much for that. "I wouldn't," the Smoking Man advised. "I've put some ointment on your back and...elsewhere...to try to make you more comfortable. I'll get some painkillers if you want. "Yes, please," Krycek said. The man went to one of several bathrooms in the place and returned with a hypodermic syringe. "Oh, we're back to this?" asked Krycek, grinning.

"You can have tablets if you want."

"No, this'll be fine."

"It's Demerol, Alex. A hip shot...there! You won't be in any pain soon. You'll sleep through the time when I have to leave."

"OK. Now come to bed! Come on!" Krycek gestured. "Are you gonna be up all night pacing?"

"No," the man smiled.

"That's better!" said Krycek. "Hold me!" he commanded. "I don't know how long you'll be gone, so I want to," he whispered in the Old Man's ear, "leave you with pleasant memories. Let me pleasure you! I'll please you the best I know how."

"Alex, you please me just by being with me, you must know that."

"You'll like it, I promise."

"Oh, I have no doubt I will."

************************************************************************

Banking into Onizuka Air Force Base near Mountain View, California, pilot Lt. Joe Forbes noticed a blip on his glowing radar screen. The plane, if that was what it was, didn't move slowly and steadily like it should have but darted all around the screen. "Damned screen!" he mumbled to the co-pilot, who nodded. "Oh...shit...hey, Jimbo, you know what this is? This is a UFO! Hey! People have been having sightings...I thought it was a bunch of crap, you know?"

"Jimbo" nodded again. "Could be," he said. "Want me to radio this in now? We're approaching ground zero pretty quick here. About two miles."

"Yeah, do that!"

************************************************************************

The President of the United States was called first, awakened from a sound slumber by the insistent ringing of the phone. "What...Oh, shit! I thought we'd gotten rid of them...oh, crap!" He rolled over in bed, yawning. 

"What is it?" the First Lady asked.

"Oh, some bullshit military emergency thing...don't worry!" He picked up the phone again and punched in the Secretary of State's speed dial. "Yeah, get me...yeah...Oh, Jesus Christ, some UFO sightings for Pete's sake...Yeah, that X-Files dude? Yeah, go through the Director first. 'K."

The Director of the FBI was called next. "Yeah?...yeah?... Oh for God's sake, I don't believe it! I'll get right on it!" He hung up and called Associate Director Kersh.

"Hey, it's me...well as might be expected! Look, I know you don't like this X-Files stuff, but something's come up, some reliable sightings... A.D. Skinner does...run it by him." He almost replaced the handset when something occurred to him, and he dialed another number.

"Yes?" asked the man. There was the click of a lighter as he lit a cigarette.

************************************************************************

A.D. Skinner bumped into Agents Scully and Mulder in the hallway. "You two," he said tensely, "in my office at 4:00 PM, sharp!" 

"Oh-oh," said Scully. "Wonder what that's about?"

"Maybe we -- naw, couldn't get so lucky!"

"As to what, Mulder?" she asked, running to keep up with him. "What?"

"As to being asked to tender our resignation," he smirked.

"Oh, Mulder, I'm afraid it'll be ever so much worse than that!"

"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of, too!"

"Are you gonna get some work done this morning, Mulder?" she asked, sifting through the stack of files at her desk.

"Why, whatever for, Miz Scarlett?" he asked. "Hey, when they give me some work, I'll do it!" In the meantime, he occupied his time making paper-clip garlands and blowing up a package of party balloons left over from one of Skinner's birthday parties, the one that the very young, seemingly naive and oh-so-delectable Krycek had attended. Even then, Mulder mused bitterly, Krycek had been in the back pocket of the Smoking Man.

He batted a balloon in Scully's direction, and she batted it back without looking up. "Hey! The first serve is returned, and do we have another volley?" he shouted, batting it back at her. She returned it, a half-smile on her pretty face, and soon they were slamming the balloon back and forth, yelling like kids. Neither of them noticed the muscular figure of A.D. Skinner, who had been leaning in the doorway watching them with a quizzical expression on his face, until it was too late. 

"Oops," said Mulder. "Um, see, we were testing out a new propulsion theory," he said lamely, then cracked a big grin.

"You two," said Skinner, "are supposed to be at work. That's what we pay you for. Now, don't forget," he said. "Four o'clock. Very important," and he turned on his heel and left.

"Oh, like we'd forget it? What's his problem?" Mulder asked. "Kersh got him by the short hairs?"

"I think it's something more important than Kersh bugging him," said Scully. "I have a real sense of foreboding about this, Mulder."

"Like the Irish second sight?"

"I suppose."

"But you don't wanna tell me?"

She raised her eyebrows, made a moue, shook her head. "Nope, I don't. Anyway, we'll find out soon enough what it is."

************************************************************************

The Old Man rose early and breakfasted upon croissants homemade by Bill Runningwater. "Is Alex all right?" Bill asked anxiously.

The man glanced at him. "Alex is fine. He probably won't be waking up for a few hours. Take good care of him, Bill. See that he eats right. And keep an eye on him. Keep him from straying if you can." He sighed. "I really hope I won't have to resort to measures similar to those I used earlier in the year, to keep him home."

"You and me both!" said Runningwater. "Oh, it looks like your limo is here already! Take care, have a good flight!"

He went in to check on Krycek, who was sleeping soundly, his mouth parted slightly, his long dark hair spread out on the pillow, black lashes trembling on his cheek.

He was so pretty, his Alexei, and what a difference the left arm made, and the tan he'd acquired in Bora Bora. Looking at him, he couldn't imagine any man, woman or child NOT being madly in love with him. He thought he saw something under the tan -- yes, those were bruises, bad bruises he saw, taking Alexei's face in his hands and turning it gently right and left in the light, looking with horror and pity at him. Sighing, he checked for other signs of abuse, and found an angry weal on his back which had split and crusted over a little. There was some ointment on it: Alex had probably slept on his stomach all night. He hoped to God the Old Man wasn't sexually abusing him, in addition to all this.

He stayed with Alex, singing Navajo songs, till the young man woke up and smiled at him. Such a sweet smile, the soft cupid's-bow lips parting to reveal his perfect white teeth. "Bill!" he said. "How are you? So good to see you!"

"I'm fine, but the question is, how are YOU, Alexei?"

"Why? Should anything be the matter with me?" he asked, stretching like a cat.

Runningwater shook his head. "You tell me!"

"Oh...how did you know about last night?" Krycek asked in a small voice.

"Oh, it's written all over your face," said Bill grimly.

Krycek touched his face. "This is from a couple of days ago. I guess...Oh! He caught me talking to Mulder again!"

The Navajo chief rolled his eyes. "And you WILL do it! But that's no excuse for what he did to you!"

"Which time?" Krycek asked grimly. "He's gone, isn't he? I'm gonna call Mulder right away!"

"He's probably at lunch right now."

"I'll call his cell phone."

"How will you explain the long-distance charges? He keeps an eye on such things."

"I'll use your cell phone?" Krycek asked hopefully. Runningwater shook his head. "OK, I'll drive to the nearest pay phone, which is probably about ten miles from here, because it is RURAL here, and call him from there!"

"Fine," said the Navajo. "Have a nice trip. Blow it out!"

Krycek found it, the nearest pay phone, about five miles away, on the corner of Portola and Alpine Roads, near a high-end grocery store. He pulled out his Pacific Bell card and plugged in the numbers.

************************************************************************

While Scully sorted through files, her reading glasses on and a faint line of concentration between her brows, Mulder, leaning back in his chair with his feet up on the desk, regaled her with stories and jokes.

"A bear in a forest goes behind a pine tree. He gets to another, goes behind it and to a third and goes behind it. Now why does that add up to 10?"

"Why?" she said, puzzled.

"Tree and a turd, plus tree and a turd, plus tree and a turd, equal ten."

"Oh God, Mulder, that sounds like a sixth-grade joke!"

"Then your sixth-grade was more advanced than mine!"

A line rang, and they both dove for it; Mulder got to it first. "FBI, Mulder," he said amiably.

"Mulder? This is Krycek."

"ALEX!!! You're all right!"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Now what the hell does that mean?"

"Means nothing. How are you, my love?"

"I'm OK. What happened last night?"

"He caught me, of course. He always does."

"So what's keeping him from catching you right now?" Mulder asked, smoothing back his hair.

"He's out of town," said Krycek cautiously. "That is, according to his itinerary, he has an 11 o'clock flight."

The tiny hairs on the back of Mulder's neck began to stand up of their own accord. "Where to, Alex? And can Scully hear this?"

"Oh...oh, yes, hi, Scully."

"Hi, Alex, what's up?"

"Your friend, and yours, and mine is on his way to Dulles International Airport. Flight arrival time 2:00."

Scully cried out and Mulder's chair legs hit the linoleum floor with a loud bang. "Hey, are you guys all right?" Krycek asked.

"It's that meeting!" Mulder said wildly. "We have a four o'clock meeting with Skinner and he's had the biggest bug up his butt all day. Shit," he said. "Scully, can we get out of it? Like go home, call in sick? Go to a restaurant, call in food-poisoned?"

"He'll be hanging around, I imagine, till he gets what he wants, from Skinner, from us, or both," she said wearily.

"Hey Alex! Just give me one reason I should deck him, and it'll just make my day. Like, what's he done to you lately?"

"Uh, nothing," Krycek said. "Look, I don't think this is a good --"

"'Uh, nothing' speaks volumes, Alex. Has he been hitting you again? Forget just punching him! I'll kill him."

"Got bruises, Alex? Got marks on your back?"

"Look, Mulder --"

Mulder jumped up in a white-hot rage on top of his desk, scattering books and files, throwing small objects at the walls. "Mulder," said Scully, "chill! You're at work!"

"Is he having a fit?" asked Krycek anxiously. "Never mind, I can hear him! Scully, give him a tranquilizer or something, please?"

"Oh, I will," she said. "If we weren't at work I'd let him work his anger out against the sofa cushions, or something. Mulder! If you don't calm down I can and will give you a...an injection!" she said triumphantly, bringing one of her last Ativan syringes out of her bag.

"Oh, go ahead!" he snarled. "You're in his pocket too! I'm not forgetting, Scully, that you were placed by that man to debunk me!"

"Yeah, well, I was placed to spy on you, and you're not mad at me," said Krycek.

"Oh, true," said Mulder, and while he paused to think about this some, Scully climbed up on the desk with him and injected the Ativan.

He began to calm down immediately. "Alex? I've given him an injection, and he's calmer."

"Good, good. Skinner's depending on you both. Mulder?"

"Alex?"

"Mulder, I love you bunches, my darling, my sweet one, and I can hardly stand being away from you. Maybe you'll come out to California again soon, da?"

Scully giggled. "Eeeewww!" she said, and hung up her part of the conference call.

************************************************************************

3:45 rolled around. Mulder still seemed pretty calm, but just to be sure she gave him a "booster shot." Thinking more about it, she popped a Valium herself. They went to their respective restrooms to pee and check on sartorial appropriateness. Then they took the elevator to Skinner's office. "Just keep your EYES AHEAD, Mulder, he'll probably be seated off to the side."

"OK," he said. They paused at Kim's desk. "A.D. Skinner's waiting for you," she said brightly. "Go right in!"

They walked in and even though they were prepared for the worst, Mulder drew a breath and Scully made the exact sound a newly-hatched chick makes. Skinner was seated at his desk, snapped pencils and crumpled-up papers littering the desk and the floor, his head in his hands and an expression of something stronger than dislike on his face. His visitor leaned against his desk, arms crossed, next to the "no smoking" sign, smoking, of course.

Skinner looked up. "Agents Mulder, Scully, have a seat," he mumbled, indicating two chairs. Scully glanced anxiously at Mulder. Oh, God. Oh, God. Here goes his career, and he's gonna get a jail sentence out of it. He was advancing on the Smoking Man with a look of hate on his face. He brought his face very close to the man's, grabbed the lit cigarette from his fingers, took the man's coffee cup, drowned the cigarette in the coffee, and threw the butt in the overflowing trash. Scully inwardly applauded. It was aggressive, but not too aggressive, in fact, it was positively funny, and she started to laugh, but covered it up with a hiccup. The Smoking Man solicitously got her a cup of water from the cooler. "Oh...thanks," she said, drinking it quickly.

"You're welcome. Fox," he said, "you're how old this year? 39? You should soon learn to pick your battles."

"I will, when you release Alex Krycek." 

Scully WISHED she would faint. Skinner looked up. "Have you still got Krycek?" he asked irritably. "Let the boy go!"

"He is free to come and go as he pleases," the man said, lighting another cigarette. "He is probably, as we speak, driving a very fast car around the countryside. It's pretty there."

"I talked to him a couple of hours ago," said Mulder. "And that's not what he said."

"Mulder!" hissed Scully furiously. Oh, why did he insist on making things worse for Alex?

"So, Fox has you involved in this, Ms. Scully?" said the man, an amused glint in his eye. 

She looked at him, blue eyes flashing fire. "If you treated Alex Krycek decently, I wouldn't need to be, but ah, as a physician, I feel it is my duty to be involved! You've been hurting and confining and torturing that man for seven years and you can just let him go!"

Mulder looked at her with naked love and gratitude. He opened his mouth to say something, but Skinner held up his hands. "That's enough! That's enough, everyone! Let's confine the remainder of the conversation to the matter at hand." Fucking soap opera, he thought, breaking a pencil.

"Well, what the fuck is the matter at hand?" Mulder asked mildly.

"Agent Mulder, keep down the obscenities, please. The matter at hand concerns UFO sightings, all over the world with the most frequent and most recent at or near this area," he said, pointing to a map. "Several sightings right around the Air Force base, some around Stanford University, for God's sake. Not the populated areas of the University, but out in the country, near Menlo Park, Palo Alto and Portola Valley. Looks like they're back, and they're back in a big way, gentlemen!"

"What the hell," said Mulder.

"I thought we'd taken care of them with that Talisman thing," said Scully.

"It's thought that perhaps that operation you pulled off a couple months ago tore a hole in the space-time continuum, and that they got back in to our dimension through that rip."

"So Sharon Green's work was for nothing?" Mulder asked incredulously. "No, that can't be!"

"She evidently sent a great evil back to where it came from," said Skinner, "but by doing so, she released another evil, unleashed it upon the world again."

Scully shook her head. "This is just awful! Eight people, that I know of, died in that effort. And it was just a waste!" Alex Krycek killed three of them alone, she thought, but did not say.

"Well, try not to think of it that way," said Skinner. "Anyway, I'm assigning you and Agent Mulder out West. I've leased a house for you in Palo Alto, a bedroom community of Stanford."

Mulder nodded. "What about White? And Mahdib? She was supposed to be working with us."

"I don't know whether Ms. Abdul will be up to it yet," said Skinner, "and as for Agent White, you, Agent Scully, have been warned about conduct unbecoming a Federal Agent."

"Sir, we were going to be married in a month," she said miserably. Mulder glanced at her. First he'd heard of it!

"OK, you get married first, then I'll think about letting you work together again. Maybe."

She bit her lip. The Smoking Man leaned over and said something in low tones to Skinner, who snapped a pencil. "Agent Scully, yes, I'll call White and have him assigned to you and Agent Mulder. But Mahdib, probably not."

"Thank you, Sir, and probably, Sirs," she said gravely. "I will not disappoint!"

"See that you don't! Agents Scully and Mulder, here's the address of your new home. You're flying out there tomorrow. As usual, carte blanche, seeing as that's how you work best, with one exception--" Mulder's stomach tightened into knots. "You, Mulder," he said, pointing a pencil, "stay away from Alex Krycek! If I find out you've been seeing him again, I'll pull you off the case!"

So! thought Mulder! He now knew what his papa'd been whispering to Skinner! His hands clenched into fists.

"Well, the meeting's over, Agents. You may leave." Glancing back over his shoulder, Mulder couldn't resist a final glare at the Smoking Man.

Out in the hall, Scully said, "You can unclench your fists now, Mulder."

"Easy for you to say! You've got the sweet end of the deal, I have the bitter!"

"Mulder," she began.

"Don't 'Mulder' me, dammit! Did you see what he did in there? Killed at least two birds with one stone! 'Protected' Alex and drove a wedge between you and me, both the former and the latter having the ultimate effect of destabilizing me, so that he'll have an excuse to lock me up again, thereby causing me to not see Alex!"

"Mulder, you're reaching here," she said.

"Oh, you're all happy because you get YOUR boyfriend; how about MINE?"

"Mulder, this is work. This is the FBI building. If you want to yell, let's go for a ride."

"OK," he said, "it's time to leave anyway. Let's go home and then go out or something."

"Uh, we can't; I invited Mahdib over for spaghetti."

"Well, then, we'll have spaghetti at home then," said Mulder ungrammatically, distractedly running a hand through his hair.

"You can help me make it," Scully said, smiling.

To Mulder fell the job of browning the meat, while Scully cooked the sauce and angel hair pasta. He cut up Italian sausages and threw them in the pan with the sizzling garlic and onions. "Scully, the meat is already brown," he observed, stirring it around in the pan.

"It has to get browner than that," she said, peering at it.

"You have gotten domestic!" he exclaimed. "Guess you and White'll be setting up house in Palo Alto, huh?"

"Well, I guess we'll all be setting up house together, Mulder."

"Like old times," he said, musing. With one exception. No Alex. "Scully, how far from Palo Alto is Portola Valley?"

"Oh, no. Ooooh, no. Don't even think it!"

He was rummaging in a drawer for a map of California, which had an inset of the Bay Area. He spread it out on the counter. "Looks like it borders Palo Alto in places," he mused.

"Mulder, the sausage." 

"OK." he said. "I think I might be able to pull this off," he said.

"Mulder. You've been warned. You keep messing with that man, one of these days he IS gonna kill you."

"Oh, I'm so afraid," Mulder said, stirring the stuff in the fry pan.

"Well, you should be. And, if you're not, think of poor Alex! He takes it all out on Krycek, everything you do that bugs him."

Sullen silence.

"Mulder."

"Yeah hm? The meat looks done, Scully."

"Yes, I think it is. Just drain the fat off, Mulder."

************************************************************************

The phone rang, and Bill Runningwater wiped his hands on his apron before answering it. "Hello? Oh, hi, Boss, how'd it go? Oh, that's good...yes, he just got in. Alex! Phone!"

Krycek picked up an extension. "Krycek," he said breathily.

"Alexei. You called Fox Mulder today, didn't you?"

"Oh," he said guiltily. "N--"

"Don't try to deny it; he told me himself!"

Mulder snitched him off? "Um, I'm sorry, Sir," he said.

"Well, look. I'm letting this slide. However, I have some news for you: Mulder will be in town, handling a case. He's arriving tomorrow. I want you to keep your pretty paws off of him, OK?"

"OK, I will." Mulder coming to the Bay Area! Oh, this was great news! Oh, his "pretty paws" would be all over his beloved, soon!

"See that you do! I'll be in D.C. for a while now. Have fun! There's lots to do in Palo Alto. And take your horses out for a spin or something."

"All right, I will. Thank you."

"I called Mulder from a pay phone," Krycek said to Bill Runningwater, "thinking it would be safe. For some reason, Mulder told him about it."

"Tsk, tsk! That was ill-advised."

"Well, you know Mulder, in a rage. What's for dinner, Bill?"

"Pizza, homemade. I know how you like it!"

Krycek hugged the Navajo. "You are so good and kind to me!"

Poor boy! He suffered so much that it was more than a pleasure, it was a need, like breathing oxygen, to be kind to him.

************************************************************************

Mahdib arrived at the front door of the Mulder household carrying a loaf of French bread and a bottle of cabernet sauvignon. "Mahdib!" Mulder exclaimed. "Come in! Dinner is almost ready. Oh, you brought bread? Oh, that's good; we forgot to get it. And what a nice bottle of cabernet!"

She smiled and stepped into the room. Delicious smells were emanating from the kitchen. "So were you sworn in today?" called Scully.

"Yeah, it was a thrill! I'm got a call from Skinner at home. He briefed me on the case. I'm going out to California with you guys."

"Are you? That'll be so fun!" said Scully, drying her hands on a dishtowel. "OK, I'd say dinner was about done. Why don't you two help yourselves while I open the wine?"

They ate by candlelight on the dining room table, which Scully had fixed up with a pretty tablecloth and place mats she'd purchased for this and other occasions. "To us!" Mulder said, raising his goblet in a toast. "To us!" they echoed.

They stayed up late that night, talking and laughing, then Scully checked the time and saw that it was past 11. "OK, you guys," she said. "We have to get up early to make our flight, and none of us has packed our bags."

"OK," said Mahdib. 

"Oh, I just thought of something," Scully said. "It's a little awkward to have to say this, but none of us is to have any contact with Alex Krycek. I know that you and he used to date, Mahdib, and maybe you still have feelings for him?" The younger woman looked down. "Anyway, stay away from him. Basically, he's jailbait."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you not know? The Smoking Man is his boyfriend."

"I knew that," admitted Ms. Abdul, "but I didn't think they were still, uh, attached."

"Joined at the hip," said Mulder, solemnly and a little drunkenly. Scully repressed an urge to laugh. "And anyway, Mahdib, I hesitate to tell you this, but Alex is mine."

This time Scully did laugh. "Looks like Alex is everyone's, doesn't it?"

************************************************************************

Krycek ate dinner then wandered out to look at the horses. "Goldie!" he called, and the palomino gelding loped over. Krycek patted him. "You're looking very fit, my man," he said to the horse. He ran a hand down the horse's off hind and the gelding lifted his leg. "Let's see... that quarter crack has healed nicely." He leaned against the fence, remembering the wild ride he'd had with Mulder through the deserts of southern Utah, into the beautiful Hidden Valley in the sky, chased by Army helicopters, camouflaged with desert mud, and Goldie pulling up lame. Those were really the days, he thought, shaking his head. And they were no further away than last summer.

He'd not dressed for the day and shivered in the wintry air. Tomorrow would be Christmas. If Mulder came out soon, what a Christmas present that would be! He had gifts for the Old Man and for Bill Runningwater, purchased in Tahiti, but nothing for Mulder. On impulse, he went to the garage and folded his long legs into the Porsche. He'd get SOMETHING for Mulder.

He found it at the Nature Company in the Stanford Shopping Mall, an electronic gizmo that made lightning all over the surface of a globe, rather like that thing they showed on the opening credits for that cheesy detective/science fiction show he liked. He couldn't think of the name of the show, nor could he remember the name of the device, but he was almost sure Mulder would like it. He asked the store clerk to wrap the package, then purchased gifts for Scully and White, as they'd be out with Mulder, no doubt. Finally, he found a pretty flowering miniature rose for anyone he might have forgotten.

He did not know it, but everywhere he went, people gaped at him. One clerk dug her elbow into another. "Lisa! Look at that!" "Yum!" was the response, "look at those eyes!" "Look at that BUTT!" the other woman hissed.

"Need help, Alexei?" Bill Runningwater asked mildly, opening the front door for him; Krycek was balancing 3 feet of packages. "Did you have fun? Spend all your money?"

"Yes, and yes, and no," answered Krycek, putting down the packages with an "oof!" "I've still got a lot left!"

"The Old Man never made you pay back that half-a-mil he gave you for spying on the X-Files agents, did he?'

"Naw," said Krycek carelessly. "He just took it out in trade."

************************************************************************

On the flight over, Scully and Mulder pulled neighboring seats, and Mahdib sat behind them, working on some Persian embroidery thing. "What's that?" Scully asked, turning around in her seat.

"Oh, a wedding shawl," she said, blushing.

"Oh, whose wedding?" Scully asked archly.

"I don't know yet," said the Iranian woman thoughtfully.

Mulder had his eyeshades on, but he was, nevertheless, chewing sunflower seeds, with the result that the hulls went all over him, his seat, the floor, and Scully's lap. "Mulder," she said, "either sleep or stop chewing those things. You should see what a mess you're making."

"Nag, nag nag," he said.

"Does this mean that the honeymoon is over?"

He pulled up his eyeshades. "Would you like to know the origin of the term, Scully?"

"Do I have a choice?"

The plane began its steep and rather sudden descent into San Jose International Airport. Scully chewed gum, trying to get her ears to "pop." Mulder removed his eyeshade to watch the landing. Around him was a litter of sunflower seeds. Mahdib listened quietly to Arabic music.

They collected their bags and took a shuttle to the rental agency, where they rented a Nissan Sentra. "Not as nice as the Cabriolet, is it?" Mulder asked Scully, who just smiled. They drove up Highway 280; past a sign billing it as the "most beautiful freeway in the world," past hills verdant with recent rain, groves and forests, houses nestled among the hills. Scully admired everything, pointing to cattle in the fields, horses, a monastery with squeals like a child. "It sure is pretty here," said Mahdib reverently.

"Page Mill Road exit," said Mulder, and took it, driving up hill and down dale. "Now, what are the directions, Scully?"

"Left on El Camino Real, right on Churchill, left on Emerson, sixth house on the right," she said, reciting it by heart.

"OK," he said, "here's El Camino. This is a busy street, isn't it?"

"It is, and it would help us if you'd drive in one lane at a time, Mulder."

They pulled up at the house, a two-or possibly three-story burnt-red frame Victorian structure, disembarked and stretched. "My legs hurt," said Mulder. "Cramped airline seats, cramped car seats..."

"Don't kvetch, Mulder," said Scully, fiddling with the keys. "There seem to be several house keys here, all different."

"Allow me," he said. "See, this house has been divided up into several different apartments. I'm sure there are enough for each of us to have one."

They went exploring. "Who likes upstairs?" asked Mulder. 

"Oh, I do," said Mahdib. 

"Then you'll get one of the upstairs apartments. They all look pretty nice," he commented, noting that each had two bedrooms, one bath, a livingroom/dining room area and a completely modern kitchen. Scully picked out an apartment and ran from room to room, squeaking.

"Oh, you guys, this is so great!" she gushed. "This is just fabulous!"

"It is really nice!" said Mahdib, smiling. "I'm really grateful for everything, not least for this." Mulder hugged her. "I'm really happy you're with us!" 

"These apartments are furnished pretty decently," Mulder observed.

"Yes, they are," said Mahdib, thinking of her D.C. digs.

"Is the phone service hooked up yet?" he asked, trying a phone. "Yes, it is. I'll call D.C. and let them know we got here."

Later, when the two women had gone into another apartment to chatter about drapes or something, Mulder picked up the phone again, glancing around furtively to see whether he'd been observed.

"Krycek," came the soft, breathy voice that was so familiar, so dear.

"Alex! It's me, Mulder!" he whispered fiercely. "I'm in Palo Alto. Come and visit me. 113 Emerson... Um, Churchill, I think. Is that what it's called, Professorville?...I'm going out to get some food. If you get here before me, just sit tight. You could go next door to Scully's. See you, my love!"

He put the phone down quickly. "Ladies!" he called. "I'll take this apartment here, OK?" They didn't hear him. Catching up his keys, he headed out the door and into the Nissan. Following directions to the Midtown Safeway, he purchased a few survival items: coffee, orange juice, doughnuts, toilet paper, dishwashing liquid, Comet, milk and sunflower seeds. Even the Express line was long and he stood there fuming.

His guest arrived at the Emerson house before he did. He knocked on Mulder's door, but there was no answer, so he went next door to Scully's. White had just arrived; they were unpacking things like dishes scattered in boxes around the apartment, and Mahdib was helping them.

Krycek leaned in the doorway and took it in. It was some moments before anyone noticed him. Scully, getting up from what she was doing, saw him there and started. "Alex!" she said, in shock and wonder. White and Mahdib looked up, White in annoyance, Mahdib in awe. "My God, Alex, you look wonderful!" She took in the slim, muscular frame, the deep tan, long loose hair and the--the-- "Alex! You've got two arms!" she said, amazed.

"Yes, I have," he said, in his throaty, breathy voice. "It's real, Scully! Courtesy of the Old Man and Stanford University, a fuckin' flesh, blood, bone and nerve miracle."

"How have you been, Alex?"

"Comme ci, comme ca," he said, then laughed. "Sorry, doesn't seem that I could get Palo Alto mixed up with Tahiti, does it?"

"Oh, Alex, it's so good to see you! Come in! Have a..glass of water?" she asked, hopefully. He smiled and shook his head. "Well, at least have a seat. Sorry about all the boxes."

He sat, and she eyed him. "Have you come to see Mulder? He isn't supposed to see you, you know."

"I know, and I don't really care," he said easily.

"You're very reckless, Alex."

"Yes, I am. I've sort of got that reputation, you know?"

White, Scully and Mahdib decided to go out on a reconnaissance mission, getting the lay of the land and buying things like light bulbs and Ajax. "I haven't got a key to Mulder's apartment, so you're welcome to stay here till he gets back," Scully said to Krycek.

"Thanks, I will," Krycek said.

He didn't have long to wait. There was a knock on the door and he rose to answer it. "Alex!" Mulder cried. "Oh, Alex!" 

He dropped his packages and Krycek leaned toward him and took him in a burning kiss. They held the pose for a long moment, Krycek's arms around Mulder and Mulder's around him, Krycek's tongue exploring Mulder's mouth, and Mulder's exploring his.

"On the couch," Mulder said, and steered Krycek to it. Krycek lay on the couch after divesting himself of his leather jacket, Mulder on top of him, kissing, kissing. Krycek unbuttoned Mulder's shirt and Mulder pulled Krycek's muscle shirt up over his head. Mulder licked his way down Krycek's chest, lingering on the nipples, which he nipped until they stood up, brown and hard. As if by prearranged signal, both men sat up and pulled off jeans and shorts. "I want you to fuck me," Krycek said to Mulder, looking in his eyes, emerald to turquoise-green. "Lube's in my right jacket pocket," he said. He watched as Mulder slicked his huge cock and three fingers of his right hand. "Let me have some of that, too," Krycek said, and greased his right hand.

"What're you gonna do?" asked Mulder, nipping at Krycek's delectable lips, his delicate nose.

"You'll see," said Krycek, sucking Mulder's full lower lip.

When Mulder slid a finger up Krycek's ass he did wince a little, remembering what had happened to him last night at the hands of his brutal lover. Then he relaxed and it was all right, and Mulder inserted a second finger, then a third, and then Krycek was ready for him. Mulder pressed the tip of his big cock against the tight ring of muscle, then slid it slowly in. Krycek gasped. "Oh God, Mulder, fuck me, fuck me!"

"Like that?" Mulder asked, thrusting his full length into Krycek.

"Oh yes! Oh God, yes! Don't stop!" Krycek breathed. He slid his lube-slicked hand under Mulder and located the opening. Then he slid one finger in.

Mulder moaned. "Oh, yes, do it!" and Krycek slid in another finger, then a third. Mulder gasped. The sensation of fucking and being fucked was exquisite.

"Want my whole hand?" Krycek asked huskily.

"Yes! Yes, if you can get it in."

"I can," he said, and slid his hand in. He slid it partway out, then in again. Mulder groaned and writhed. He grasped Krycek's cock and stroked it. Krycek moaned. Mulder leaned over him and kissed him, kissed him, and Krycek kissed and licked and nibbled back, neither man able to get enough of the other, and this is how they were found by the returning Scully, White and Mahdib. 

Scully rolled her eyes, White ran a hand through his hair, but Mahdib dropped her bags and gazed in horror. "You guys," Scully said, "if someone were to find out about this, both your asses would be grass."

They never looked up or gave a sign that they'd heard but kept making love heedlessly, passionately, locked together in the most intimate embrace Scully had ever seen or experienced or heard tell of. She looked with great interest at what they were doing: Krycek seemed to have most of his hand up Mulder. She'd read of this practice; it was supposed to be one of the most unsafe-sex things one could do; but she imagined it was very pleasurable. White went into one of the bedrooms and Mahdib, after staring for a while, burst into tears. Scully guided her into the other bedroom.

The couple on the couch climaxed together soon after the other folks left, screaming their orgasms. They lay in a warm embrace, panting. "Oh, GOD, Alex, that was awesome. Baby, I never want to let you go."

"I don't want to let you go either."

"Let's get dressed, Alex, and go to my apartment so we don't have to bother these nice people any more."

They dressed hurriedly and went into Mulder's place, necking and petting all the way. "On the bed," Mulder said. "I wanna fuck you," Krycek said. "Lie on your back; here's the pillow...OK." He lubed his cock, then bent over Mulder, kissing him, his tongue exploring the dark, warm reaches of Mulder's mouth, meeting Mulder's tongue, playing his tongue around Mulder's throat, licking his mouth, nibbling on his upper lip and nipping and sucking his full lower lip, kissing his eyelids, his face, his nose, his throat, his chest, licking around through the chest hair, nibbling and lipping his nipples till they stood up, then down, drawing a damp line down his belly to his navel, licking that, then down and suddenly Mulder's huge cock was in his mouth. This he licked and sucked till the pre-ejaculate appeared, and he licked this, savoring the bitter, salty taste.

In an easy, graceful motion Krycek mounted Mulder, his cock sliding easily past the tight ring of muscle. Mulder moaned. Krycek thrust all the way in; Mulder gasped and his hips bucked. Krycek took Mulder's cock in hand and stroked it, stroked it till Mulder, between being fucked and rubbed, thought he would die. Krycek fucked him hard and fast and Mulder came pretty quickly, arching his back and crying out "Alex!", spurting his hot come all over Krycek's hand. Then Krycek came, shooting hot fluid into Mulder's heat, yelling Mulder's name over and over.

They lay side by side on the bed, breathing fast. "Tell me," said Mulder, "how is he?"

Krycek snorted. "Fine, I guess, unless he's got undiagnosed lung cancer."

"That's not what I meant."

Krycek looked at him. "No," he said, "not going there."

"Those things you do to me, do you do them to him?" Mulder persisted.

Krycek shook his head. "I take the Fifth."

"Thought so," said Mulder, jealously.

"Mulder, you jealous queen! He's your father and he's an old guy and I don't love him. I love you. What's your problem?"

"How can you be with me, then be with him?"

"Mulder. I'm a survivor. I don't have a choice in the matter. I can only endure."

"Alex, I'm so sorry. I feel so badly for you!" Mulder said, pulling him close.

"Well, don't. I've had seven years to learn to adapt."

"It must be cruelly hard for you."

"It's not all bad, Mulder," Krycek said, waving his left arm around. "Hey, let's take a shower together, OK?"

"Sounds great!" Mulder said. "We can try out the new bathroom. Do you prefer a shower or a bath?"

"I prefer a situation in which we can suck each other off, Mulder."

Mulder's big cock suddenly went hard again.

Mulder stood under the shower under the sluicing warm water, and lots of it, while Krycek knelt in front of him, Mulder's huge cock in one hand, licking the head and down the shaft, sucking his balls, licking the perineum and rimming him, then back to his cock, swallowing the whole thing in one gulp, massaging the head with the back of his throat, the shaft with his mouth, his lips and his tongue. To Mulder, it felt like two or three Kryceks were going down on him at the same time. The older man threaded his fingers through his lover's locks and held his head.

Mulder massively enjoyed the sucking and came fast, groaning and shooting a lot of hot sticky liquid down Krycek's throat.

He helped the younger man to his feet. "My turn," said Krycek. Mulder knelt in front of him, taking Krycek's cock in his mouth, sucking hard. "Ah..baby..that's so wonderful! Ah, my love! I love it when you suck me like that!" Mulder played with Krycek's balls with one hand, ran a finger, then another, up him with the other. Krycek moaned and writhed. When he came, he screamed Mulder's name over and over.

Then they took an actual shower.

Dressed and sitting on the couch, they held hands, kissed, touched each others' faces, ran hands through each others' hair. "I love you so much," Krycek breathed. 

"I love you too, Alex, more than anything in the world. You are the air I breathe, the water I drink, the food I eat. You are the sky above and the Earth beneath my feet. You are the sun and moon and the gentle rain. You are a miracle of love's creation."

"What God has joined together, let no man tear asunder," said Krycek solemnly.

The phone rang. Krycek smacked his palm on his forehead. "That would be him," he said. "Answer at your own risk!"

Mulder picked up the phone. "Hello?..Oh, hey, Dad...No, he's not here...how can I put him on if he isn't here?"

Krycek sat on the couch, staring sullenly into space.

"Well, hey, if he does come around I'll sure tell him...'k."

"Your master's voice," said Mulder. "You'd probably better go home soon." He thought: what happens when the Old Man gets back in town in a few days? Will I be able to see Alex at all?

"I'll find ways to slip out, Mulder," Alex said easily. "If he comes around, I'll hide in a closet or under a bed."

You and I, thought Mulder, both know that would not work.

************************************************************************

Krycek awoke on Christmas morning in his own big bed. He was disoriented; he felt around instinctively for Mulder, and of course he was not there. The pillow and sheets next to him, however, were warm.

He rose and dressed, black jeans, black cotton sweater, black loafers. He looked in the mirror, thought better of this and exchanged the black sweater for a forest-green one which brought out his emerald eyes perfectly.

"There's my Alex!" the Old Man exclaimed, getting up from his chair to embrace Krycek. "I flew in last night because I wanted to give you your gifts."

"Well, thank you!" said Krycek, beaming his prettiest smile upon the man.

"Come look!" the man said, indicating an assortment of wrapped gifts under the Christmas tree. Krycek knelt and unwrapped the first one, a very large box. "My God..." he said. It was a state-of-the-art PC. The second gift was a MIDI setup, and the third was a grand piano, sitting in the den. "How the hell did you hide this?" he asked.

"I didn't. They actually moved it in here this morning. I was afraid they'd wake you up, but you slept pretty soundly." Of course, thought Krycek. After mind-blowing sex with my one and only I always sleep well.

"I know how fond you are of music, Alex, and what a beautiful voice you have, so I thought you might want to accompany yourself on this piano."

"Well, it's an awesome gift!"

"Why don't you try it out?"

"Well, hm, want a Christmas carol?"

"That would be fine. Bill, come in here and hear him!" Bill Runningwater came in obediently to listen to Krycek.

"Hm," said Krycek, felt around for some chords, and started playing "The First Noel," raising his voice in song.

After a few carols, Krycek stopped playing. Bill Runningwater clapped, and the Smoking Man said, "That was beautiful, Alex!"

"That's as difficult as I can play," said Krycek modestly.

"Well, that's why I've also bought you two years of piano lessons with a noted pianist."

Krycek hugged and kissed him. "You are so sweet to me!" he said.

They opened the rest of the gifts and Bill put the turkey in the oven. The Old Man read Shakespeare and Krycek draped himself over him, rubbing his back and nibbling his ear. The man looked up from his book and looked at Krycek. "Alex," he said, "you were at Fox Mulder's yesterday."

Krycek gaped at him. How the fuck did he know? "I wasn't," he said bravely.

"Yes, you were. What you were doing there, I really hate to think." But I know, my boy, I know.

"I was just visiting. He'd just moved in," Krycek said without thinking.

"Ah, so you admit you were there...just visiting."

"Yes," said Krycek miserably. "Are you gonna hit me?"

"No, certainly not on Christmas day. I need your word, though, Alex, your WORD that you will NOT visit him again!"

"OK," said Krycek, again without thinking, knowing that he was lying.

"All right," said the man. "Now, go and help yourself to some eggnog. It's good; Bill made it and it's got a lot of rum in it."

A LOT of rum, thought Krycek, flying like a kite after a few drinks. His kisses and caresses became warmer and warmer, until the Old Man herded him into the big bedroom, helped him out of his clothes and took him. Lying comfortably on his stomach, Krycek fell asleep and slept until Bill Runningwater poked his head in. "Dinner time," he said. "You know, you don't have to sleep in the altogether, Alexei. There are nightclothes in the house. Krycek, still a little drunk, grinned at him. "Enjoying the view too much, Bill?"

"Ye gods!" was the reply.

He dressed and wore his emeralds for the occasion. The Old Man insisted he sit right next to him, with one arm around him, while he fed him. Krycek fluttered his black lashes and sucked the man's fingers.

"Sheesh!" said the Navajo. "You two want to take that somewhere else?"

************************************************************************

Christmas day at the Emerson house was quiet and most definitely not on the lavish scale of the Spender/Krycek/Runningwater household. Scully, with White's help, cooked a turkey and got together a pretty good dinner. Gifts were exchanged and they ate at the Scully/White apartment.

"You," said Scully, pointing a forkful of turkey at Mulder, "completely and utterly shocked the entire household yesterday."

He shrugged, chewing stuffing. "We're in love. What can I say?"

She rolled her eyes. "You're not even supposed to be talking to him, let alone shtupping him on MY couch in broad daylight! And, AND, Mulder, you didn't have the decency to get up and apologize and be ashamed."

He swallowed, drank some wine. "Chill out, Scully. It's Christmas! Anyway, it's absolutely nothing to be ashamed of and you know it."

"You don't seem to grasp the gravity of the situation! Starting tomorrow, we'll be investigating the scariest happenings in the history of the human race! Mulder, the entire world is depending on us! You were assigned to this case because you're the crack X-Filer. If you see Krycek and the wrong, um, people find out, you're off the case! He'll take you off, Mulder, have no doubt of that, and then where would we be? Where would the world be?"

"Skinner will?" he asked innocently, scooping up some homemade cranberry sauce.

"No!" she scowled, forking turkey. "YOU know who! I hesitate to mention his name here lest this dinner, which is in sacred space, be defiled."

He looked at her in surprise. "What sacred space?"

"I created it when I prayed all day."

"Gee, Scully," he said, working on his mashed potatoes, "you're sounding very new-agey."

"I'm CATHOLIC, Mulder!"

"Need a Valium or something?" he asked mildly.

"You guys," said White, shaking his head. "You fight like an old married couple! But, Mulder, she's right about something. Your relationship with Alex Krycek threatens the integrity of this whole project."

"Oh, hey," Mulder said, "so you and Scully get to make babies and I don't?"

Scully blushed and Mahdib, who had been looking down at her plate for the last few minutes, got up suddenly. "I think I left a burner on!" she exclaimed, and went outside. They heard her light footfall on the stairs up to her place.

"Hey," said White, "I have nothing against the relationship per se. You two obviously care about each other, and yes, it is your business whom you fuck, although you two kind of made it our business yesterday, didn't you? But Mulder, you're -- you're battling stronger forces here, someone who can break you, break this project. It's bad enough he's got his own agenda, will probably try to renew the pact with the aliens, send more people off to the slaughter -- you, yourself, know how hideous that is, you've fought him for years -- but he has the power to destroy our case. Utterly ruin it."

"And, Mulder, you, more than anyone on this planet, know all this."

Mulder raised his eyebrow, played with his mashed potatoes. "That's my Dad!" he said finally. Scully smothered a giggle.

"You're not taking this sufficiently seriously, Mulder! You're willing to subvert anything to your one aim, that of having Alex Krycek!"

"I love Alex," Mulder said, tipping back in his chair.

"Mulder, you'll fall over and hit your head," said Scully. "David's right, and what's more, if you love Alex, truly love him as you say you do, you must know that every encounter you have with him puts him in terrible danger from his dark master."

Mulder's chair tipped too far back and he fell over backwards, his head impacting the linoleum with a crack. "Mulder!" cried Scully, jumping up and running over to him. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." She helped him up, and there was a knock at the door. It was a smiling Alex Krycek, laden with gifts.

"Well, hi, Santa!" Scully chirped. "Come in, come in! Have you eaten?"

"Yes, I have, thank you, Scully! Hi, everyone!" White waved at him and Mulder went to him, kissing him lingeringly. "I have a present for you," he said, and ran back into his apartment. "Here!" Krycek unwrapped it. It was a large diamond ring. "For your left hand, Alex!"

Krycek tried it on, wonderingly; it fit exactly. Then his countenance clouded over. "This is beautiful, but I can't wear it at home. I have to wear this," he said, indicating the emerald ring on his right had. "He gave it to me and wears one just like it."

"That's OK!" said Mulder. "Just wear it around me."

Scully had been eyeing Krycek's jewelry. "That's the largest emerald I've ever seen!" she said, indicating his pendant. "Hell, your earring is the largest emerald I've ever seen!"

"Want to see it?" Krycek asked, removing the pendant. Scully looked at it, amazed. "It's 30 carats," said Krycek. "There's no such thing as a flawless emerald, but this one is pretty close. The earring is ten carats."

"He gave you these?" she asked, looking at him.

He nodded. "He gives me many gifts. That's how I got the Ferrari out front. I'll take you for a ride if you'd like. I got a grand piano for Christmas. Steinway. And a PC with a 30-gig hard drive, video editing, a MIDI system, stuff like that."

She shook her head in amazement. She knew the guy was rich but he must be just MADE of money! "Do you play piano?"

"Just a very little. Enough to accompany myself."

"You sing, Alex?"

"Yeah. I was lead singer in a rock band at one time."

"I didn't know that. You're a pretty amazing guy!"

He smiled at her. "Thank you for saying so! Well, I have to leave, you guys. Someone is expecting me back at the ranch. There're presents for everyone in that stack of stuff," he said, indicating the gifts he'd left in the hall.

Scully kissed him. "We all love you very much, Alex, and thank you so much, and Merry Christmas!"

"Thanks!" Mulder advanced on him. "You're not getting out of here quite that fast, Alex!" He took Krycek's face in his hands, kissing his soft lips lightly and then hungrily, deeply into his warm mouth. 

"In the hallway," he said. He slid his hand down Krycek's jeans and touched his cock, which was very hard. Krycek groaned and rubbed himself against Mulder's hand. Mulder unsnapped and unzipped Krycek and took out his cock, stroking it. Krycek moaned. Krycek unzipped Mulder and grasped his big cock, rubbed it. Mulder groaned and ground his hips against Krycek.

Scully saw them first. "You two," she said, "making a public spectacle of yourselves again!" She was joined by White, eating the last of his wedge of pumpkin pie. "Mulder, remember what I told you!" he said.

The two lovers ignored them completely, stroking each other off and crying out each other's names. "That was so good," Krycek said, burying his head in Mulder's chest. "I love you, my darling!"

"I love you, too, baby," Mulder said, threading his fingers through Krycek's long hair, lifting his head, touching his face, kissing his edible soft cupids-bow lips, his downcast eyelids.

White looked at Scully, and Scully looked at White. "Out, out!" Scully cried, shooing them down the hall and out the door. "Baby," White said, taking Scully in his arms and kissing her deeply.

************************************************************************

Driving down Alpine Road, Krycek lifted his voice in song, "Every Breath you Take," even as his heart sang, whenever he'd been with his lover. He gunned his Ferrari. He was late; he was supposed to have gone for a half-hour drive. When he pulled into the cobblestoned driveway, he noted a car he didn't recognize. Oh, well, it was Christmas, they were bound to have visitors. Still singing, he unlocked the front door and stepped into the foyer. From here, he could see the Smoking Man deep in conversation with someone. He could only see the back of her head, a mass of big curly black hair. Oh...Oh, no. Oh, no.

"Alex, why don't you join us?" the CSM called, lighting a cigarette. "Sit here," he said, patting the couch next to him, and Krycek docilely sat down, putting his arm around the man. "Alex, why are you trembling?" he asked softly.

Krycek looked at him, looked at Mahdib. 

"Yes, Ms. Abdul and I have been talking, and I've learned of Fox Mulder's adventures at the hand of Alexei Krycek!" He said "hand," not "hands," Krycek thought wildly. "Yes, I know every gory, grisly detail. You should be ashamed of yourself, doing such things in public!"

"You...you traitor! You snitch bitch!" Krycek ground out, glaring at Mahdib. "Just because you couldn't have me!" and he lunged for her, his hands going around her throat. "I hate you! I hate you!" he cried, choking her, then he was taken in a choke hold by the CSM, surprisingly strong and quick. 

"Let her go, Alex!" Krycek struggled against the man's arm, clawing and gasping for breath, looking for something to bite, but he could not budge that arm. He saw stars and the edges of his visual field faded, and he had some awareness of the fact that he was losing consciousness and being hurled into darkness.

When he came to he was lying on the sectional, staring at the ceiling, and the CSM and Bill Runningwater were peering at him anxiously. "Where's the bitch?" he asked, raising his head. He saw her, seated on the love seat, rubbing her neck and glaring at him. "Fuckin' cunt, I'll fuckin' kill you, that's a promise," he rasped out.

"Such language, Alexei," the Smoking Man said, leaning back on the sectional and lighting a Morley.

"Why did you do that?" he asked.

"Choke you? I had to, or you would have killed Ms. Abdul. You'll be all right, Alex."

"Fuck," said Alex Krycek, lying back.

"When you feel a little better, Alex, get up and go to the bedroom."

"I gotta pee."

"Well, do that first then."

"Are you gonna beat me?"

"I'd say that there was a high probability of that, yes."

"Well, I'll fuckin' kill you too, then," said Krycek, sitting up.

The Smoking Man laughed. "No, you won't."

"Why are you so sure?"

"Because I'm armed, for one thing," the man said, pulling out a pistol and pointing it at Krycek. "Now, I order you to go to that room. You know the drill."

Krycek thought he would surely die of the pain this time, the worst he'd ever experienced. He screamed until he could only croak hoarsely. When it was over, he could feel blood running down his back and it felt like every nerve ending was exposed. He lay on his stomach, not willing to try to get up. Bill Runningwater came in after a few minutes and washed his wounds. Krycek screamed at the gentle touch of his hands. Bill shook his head. This time, the Old Man had cut the boy to ribbons. "This is gonna require suturing, Alexei. I'm going to give you some Xylocaine injections so you won't feel the stitching. And lots of Demerol, Percodan, whatever you want."

"OK," said Krycek huskily. "Is it gonna scar?"

"Well, I'm doing what I can to minimize the scarring."

Krycek smelled smoke and looked up. "Have you learned your lesson this time, Alexei?" the man asked softly.

"Yes. To stay away from Fox Mulder," he said unwillingly. "Is the bitch still here?" Runningwater injected Alex with Xylocaine and a syringe he'd prepared by mixing a cocktail of Demerol, Ativan and methylqualone, and Krycek noticed the effects almost immediately.

"She had to leave. I allowed her to watch, and unfortunately she became ill." Bill started on the suturing. Fortunately, Krycek now felt nothing.

"It's all her fuckin' fault," said Krycek.

The man laughed. "Who committed the act? Was that her, Alex? I think it was you, my darling boy!"

"If I'm your darling boy, how come you do this stuff to me?"

"Because you won't honor my SIMPLE request to refrain from any contact with Fox Mulder! That means even talking to him, let alone fisting him in public!"

"Oh," said Krycek. "Look, I'm sorry, OK? I won't do it again, I promise!"

Runningwater finished the suturing and bandaged Krycek's back.

"Now, leave us, Bill," said the Smoking Man. "Now, Alex," he said, pulling Krycek's head up by the hair and kissing him, "I'm going to show you whom you really belong to." 

************************************************************************

"Hey, Dave," said Scully, pulling the coverlet around her. 

"Yeah?" he asked. He was engaged in touching her face, her beautiful face.

"You know something? Mahdib left and never came back. I washed her plate and never even noticed she was gone. Think she's OK?"

"I dunno. Don't check on her now! I want to play some more!"

"I'm gonna go up to see her!" Scully said, rising from the bed and quickly dressing. She ran up the stairs to Mahdib's apartment, and knocked. In a moment the girl answered the door, looking rather green around the gills. "What's the matter?" Scully asked. "Does this have something to do with Alex and Mulder?"

"It's a little more complicated than that," the girl sighed. "And I can't tell you."

Scully shrugged. "Well, you certainly don't have to. If this is an Alex thing, remember what I told you about him being jailbait and all that."

"I remember," Mahdib said. And now I've seen it with my own eyes, seen it startle into awareness the full horror of the situation. Poor Alex! What I did to him!

"You can always talk to me about anything," Scully was saying. "Or White. Or Mulder, for that matter."

Mahdib was so tempted to pour the whole thing out to this kind woman. She was locked in, now, to a prison whose every bar, every wall she'd helped to construct herself, whose jailer was a merciless man who had placed her under his dominion.

She sat and sighed deeply. "I've gotten myself into something that was a lot bigger than I'd imagined," she said.

"What's that?" asked Scully alertly.

"Well, this project. It has me scared."

"It's OK to be scared, Mahdib." The Persian woman turned away from Scully so she could not see her crying.

"Well," said Scully, "why don't we take this from the beginning?"

"I'm so sorry, I just can't."

A terrible suspicion had begun to grow in Scully. "You haven't been doing anything you shouldn't, have you?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" the girl asked, looking at her in alarm.

"You can't serve two masters, Mahdib," said Scully, very low. "Have you bugged our apartments? Hm? I'll check, you know."

"No," the girl said wretchedly, "I haven't. And I don't know what you're talking about."

"Look at me," Scully commanded. Mahdib looked at her unwillingly. "Tell me the truth. If you do now, perhaps you can be saved. He never releases his minions except with a gunshot."

The girl shook her head. "No. I tell you I have nothing to say."

"OK," said Scully, getting up and going to the door.

"You are doomed, Mahdib," she said, turning around. "Look at Alex Krycek, caught inextricably in his web. Doomed!" she said, opened the door and closed it behind her.

Mahdib quickly locked it, leaning against it and crying. The look on Alex's face, the screams, when he was beaten -- oh God, what that man did to him! And the expression on the Smoking Man's face, stern and pitiless. I am doomed, she thought miserably. There's no way out. She sat down on her couch and curled up in a ball. Maybe I can shut the world out. 

She noticed she was trembling almost painfully. Maybe I should have asked Scully for some Valium or something, she thought. The phone rang, and she started. Some telemarketer, she thought, and picked it up, her mouth ready to form the words "I'm sorry, but I don't want any."

"Ms. Abdul?" came the cultured voice at the other end of the line, and she almost dropped the phone.

"Y-yes?" she stammered.

"Have I upset you? I'm just calling to thank you for excellent work, to tell you I'll be paying you quite a nice consideration for it, and to tell you about something else I'd like done."

"Thank you, and what?"

"Plant bugs in the Scully and Mulder apartments."

"Scully already suspects. She said she'd check for bugs."

"What do you mean, she suspects?" She heard the click of a lighter.

"She questioned me pretty hard, she said Alex was caught in your web, she said I couldn't serve two masters, and that I was doomed."

"My, those are dramatic statements, even from Scully. You didn't give her any information?"

"No, none at all."

"Then why does she suspect? Tell me the truth!"

"It could have been the look on my face or something, I don't know."

"You told her nothing?"

"No."

He sighed. "You're either lying, or you don't remember."

"Well, then I don't remember."

He laughed. "Are you sure you're mature enough to handle this assignment, Ms. Abdul?"

"Yes. I worked for the Consortium, remember?"

"Yes, how could I forget! You shot my Nightshade. But all is forgiven. This'll blow over, and if it doesn't, I'll fix it. You'll remain there, and place the bugs AFTER Ms. Scully has checked."

"Is Alex OK?" she blurted out.

"He is fine. He's resting comfortably."

************************************************************************

Alex was in fact awake but just barely, profoundly drugged on another chemical "cocktail" that Bill Runningwater mixed up for him. Even so, his back was on fire, his throat ached and his head hurt. At some point, someone came in, turned the stereo on and placed several classical CDs in the changer, and left. Bill Runningwater came in to get him to drink some iced tea and to help him to the bathroom, then back to the bed. Later, it could have been 9 PM or 2 AM, he smelled smoke, there was pressure on the bed and someone got in with him. Guess who, he thought, turning his face away. The man touched his face, turning it so Krycek was looking into his eyes. "Don't hate me, Alexei. I have to do these things, to teach you. Your infidelity upsets me greatly. This is supposed to be an exclusive relationship, and I love you so much."

"If you love me," said Krycek sadly, and not for the first time, "then why do you hurt me?"

"Because you are so DAMNED HARD to control! Your wildness and willfulness are very appealing, part and parcel of the overwhelming attraction you hold for me; but they make for a difficult relationship. You are so wayward!"

"Why can't you let me go?"

"I never let anyone go. Especially not you, my love. There is no one like you. You are like a big jungle cat...feral and breathtakingly beautiful."

"Then I wish I were ugly."

He laughed. "No, you don't! Think of what you would've missed out on if you were." Like you for example, Krycek thought. "Are you in much pain, Alex?"

"Some," he admitted.

"OK. I'm going to give you something very strong, stronger than Demerol, and I promise you won't feel a thing." Even when you fuck me?

The man left and returned with Bill Runningwater, who was shaking his head. "It's not a good idea," the Navajo said. 

"I don't care what you think. Just do it."

"Give me your arm, Alexei. This is intravenous." he tied off Krycek's arm and injected the stuff, whatever it was, into a vein. Krycek immediately felt better than he ever had in his life.

"What is that?" he asked, laughing. "I bet I could guess!"

"I bet you could, too," said Runningwater gravely. "Don't like it too much, Alex!"

"Feel better, Alex?" the Smoking Man asked solicitously.

"I feel great!" he said, with a big, stupid grin. The man shed his robe and got into bed with him again.

"How does this feel, Alex?"

"Mm. Uh! Feels good."

"Keep making those sexy little noises I love."

"Sheesh!" said Bill Runningwater, and exited the room.

************************************************************************

Early Day-After-Christmas morning, a sleepy Scully was awakened by a loud knock at the door. A uniformed delivery boy stood on the doorstep with a clipboard. "Dana Scully?"

"Yeah," she said, yawning. It was 7:00 and she was a little hung over from the Christmas dinner festivities.

"Sign here, please." she noticed the slash mark went from 1 to 17. "Hey, wait a minute," she said. "I've got 17 items?"

The man checked the clipboard. "Yes. My partner's bringing them out now."

They were banker's boxes. Seventeen banker's boxes. "Oh, shit," she groaned. "DAVID! I need your help!"

He came out in a robe, looked at the boxes and started laughing. "Who ordered these?" he asked.

"I don't know; it wasn't me!"

They carried the boxes inside, and Scully opened one up. "They're files," she said. "Our X-files. Copies of all the alien X-files!"

"Yes," he said thoughtfully. "Either Skinner sent them or Mulder ordered them."

She went over to Mulder's apartment and banged on the door. "MULDER!"

"Yeah?" he answered the door in his shorts.

"Mulder, you should wear something!" she exclaimed. Good Lord, that man was endowed.

"We just got all these boxes Fed-Exed to us, seventeen of them, and did you order them?"

"The alien X-Files? Yeah, I did. I had just your address at the time," he said. She noticed that he was hitting the seeds pretty hard again, chewing and chucking the hulls hither and yon, mostly in the long gravel driveway. "I'll have to take a look at them, Scully. Let me get dressed," and he disappeared inside.

Scully, on impulse, went up and knocked on Mahdib's door. She was not going to share the files with the evident traitor unless she had to, but she was curious; the girl had seemed pretty upset.

Mahdib opened the door a crack then completely. She was dressed in jeans and sweater, sock feet. "Hi, Scully," she said. She was her usual composed, serene self.

"Hi, Mahdib. I was wondering whether you'd had a chance to think over our conversation last night."

"I did, and you know, I haven't done anything wrong, and I think you're paranoid."

"Then he does have you," Scully said softly. "Mahdib, there's an old song that goes, 'you're just a microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan, designed and directed by his Red Right Hand'. Duane Barry was playing that awful song when he kidnapped me, to offer me up to the aliens...Do you know who the Red Right Hand is? Yes, I know you saw the Devil, but this man is the Devil on Earth. He is ruthless and remorseless. Right now, he is plotting how to sell out the entire human race to the aliens. His minions he uses up and casts off to die, or kills. Alex Krycek is an unusually long-lived one, and only because he was and remains strikingly physically beautiful. Yet he must submit to often inhuman conditions. He is a survivor and an amazingly tough individual, yet even he has attempted suicide at least twice, due directly to the misery of being in a relationship with this fiend in human form...Look, Mahdib, you are probably thinking: I am honored to have been chosen by this man, he pays me lots and lots of cash money, I can learn a lot from him, being in association with such a brilliant, powerful individual will rub off on me. Don't be deceived! Look, I'm giving you another chance!"

The young woman appeared to hesitate, vacillate.

"Please! The next time I ask you, it will be too late!" pleaded Scully, holding out her arms.

"No," said Mahdib. "I guess he's a pretty heavy dude, but he's not my employer." She stood with arms folded across her chest, shaking her head.

"Then I can't help you," said Scully heavily, turned and walked down the stairs.

Once in her apartment, she confided in White the entire story. He nodded sagaciously. "She's a spy all right, no doubt about it. Yeah, she's working for him. He got to her somehow. Check for bugs every day." 

"He got to her somehow," murmured Scully. But how? Was it the money? Then she remembered something, the deer-in-the-headlights look of Mahdib when she saw Mulder and Krycek screwing. Oh, Christ, she thought. She went and snitched because she's sweet on Alex. If she included the "fisting" in her description, no doubt poor Alex had been beaten to within an inch of his life. Oh, God. She must have been recruited earlier, but maybe wouldn't have done that to Krycek if she hadn't been so jealous, so envious and so hurt. Oh, poor Alex!

Scully went to the other bedroom and knelt by the bed. She prayed to God, Jesus, the Virgin Mary and Saint Sharon that Alex Krycek would be safe. Then she placed a call to A.D. Skinner. He wasn't in, so she left a message. And told first White, and then, gingerly and reluctantly, Mulder.

Mulder went completely wild, threatening to kill Mahdib and the Smoking Man both, throwing things, breaking things and hitting the wall so hard he punched a hole in it. 

"Mulder," Scully said calmly. "Mulder, get a grip."

"I'm gonna kill that spook bitch!" he ground out, "and then I'm gonna kill Big Daddy. And they won't be easy deaths, no way!"

Scully sighed. She'd come over with some Ativan tablets and a glass of water, expecting such a display. "Mulder, take these, you'll feel better."

"Drugs, drugs, drugs!" he said. "Alex and I both get doped and drugged so we'll be more cooperative."

"Well, Mulder, you did break a lamp and punch a hole in the sheetrock."

"I'm calming down," he said, running a hand through his thick golden-brown hair. "But I'll take the pills, OK?"

"Thank you, Mulder," Scully said gratefully. "And now, please do get dressed," she said, eyeing the bulge in his shorts.

"What -- Oh, that's not a hard-on, Scully. I'm just naturally large."

"I know," she said wistfully.

************************************************************************

Krycek woke up at 5 in the morning to searing pain. He got out of bed, careful not to wake the sleeping man beside him, and padded down the hall to Bill Runningwater's room. The Indian wasn't sleeping; he seemed to be meditating on a beautiful sand painting he'd drawn on a tarp he'd spread on the floor. "Bill," he said hesitantly. The Navajo looked up and smiled. 

"Alexei! How are you this morning?"

"I'm in pretty bad pain. Can you give me a shot of that stuff?"

Runningwater raised an eyebrow. "Do you know what it is?"

"Is it smack?" Krycek asked casually.

"Yes, it is. Pure, unadulterated medical-grade heroin. Are you sure you want more?"

"Yes," Krycek said, sitting down, careful to lean forward so as not to worsen the screaming agony of his back.

"Well, all right." Bill left the room and returned with a syringe and a rubber tube. He tied Krycek off and shot him up.

"Oh God, that's great!" breathed Krycek.

"Yeah, that's what I was afraid of!" said the Navajo ruefully. "I'm afraid you're turning into an addict, but I don't know how else to handle the situation."

"You could help me run away."

"There's no place you could hide, you know that, and when he found you he'd issue a dire punishment, and it might be death."

"Death might be preferable to this," said Krycek thoughtfully. "Although, I don't know, I'm pretty happy right now."

"Yeah huh. I'll bet you are, laddybuck."

"What's the painting for?"

"It's for a Navajo ceremony. I'm praying for all the members of this household."

"That's really nice! You are so sweet."

The Old Man, having awakened and not had Krycek at his side, went looking for him. He found him talking animatedly to Bill Runningwater. "Come back to bed, Alex," he said, and Krycek rose and followed him to their bedroom, giggling most of the way. "You've had a happy shot, haven't you? Well, that's good. Get on the bed and pull down your shorts. This will feel very good, I promise."

Krycek spent the rest of the day in a more or less happy, drug-induced haze. He dimly remembered eating meals at the dining room table and watching videos with his arms wrapped around the Smoking Man. He was able to get a loose poet's shirt over his bandages, and because of his chemically-induced euphoria and analgesia he was in very little pain. He was so doped he became confused about his relationship with the CSM, thought he'd always been in this relationship and that he loved the man. He had just a few isolated, remote memories of being beaten, but they didn't seem important.

He couldn't know this, but all of it was according to plan.

************************************************************************

Scully received the call from Skinner at 10 AM. "There's been a sighting over Foothills Park. It's a large rural park owned by the City of Palo Alto but actually up in the hills. Take Page Mill Road west out of Palo Alto, talk to the park ranger. Look it up on a map if you're confused. The matter concerning Mahdib? Yes, she does appear to be an operative for Spender, but there's not a damned thing we can do about it, nothing, nada, nichts. It's atrocious, I know, but you'll just have to put up with her. Keep an eye on her at all times, check for bugs, cameras. Now did you get those boxes all right?"

"Yes, Sir, we did, thank you very much!"

"Have you had a chance to go through 'em?"

"I read some, and White's reading some now."

"Well, Mulder's involved with the process, isn't he?"

"He hasn't had a chance."

"All right," Skinner said, "what's wrong with him? Is he sick?"

"I don't think so."

"He isn't spending a lot of time mooning after that Alex Krycek, is he?"

"Um, no," Scully said, wishing the conversation were over.

"Well, look, I won't push it, as long as Mulder doesn't let it interfere with his job."

"All right, thanks," Scully said with relief.

Then she went to look for White and Mulder.

************************************************************************

Mulder was in his apartment toying with the idea of going after-Christmas shopping at that beautiful, if such things could be called that, Stanford shopping mall. Maybe he could lose himself in the crowds. He'd like to. He'd like to forget all about what he'd been told, and worse, what he'd imagined. He just knew Alex had gotten into really bad trouble over this one. He suffers for his love, thought Mulder. He still wanted to kill the bitch. The nerve! After she'd been taken back by the FBI, to turn traitor in this fashion.

Scully knocked at the door. "You up?"

"Sort of. I'm dressed, Scully!" The door was unlocked and she let herself in. "Hi, Mulder, I got a call from Skinner a little while ago."

"Oh? What'd he say about the bitch?"

"The bit--the woman stays with us, unfortunately."

"WHAT!" A sunflower seed trembled on his lip, fell to the floor. "Why? Skinner can take her off in a hot second. I mean, espionage?"

"He's got higher orders," she said evenly.

"Fuck," he said softly, popping a seed into his mouth. "So she continues to spy on us, and he...he gets all the information he needs, whether it's about me and Alex, or what?"

"Yes. So COOL IT with Alex Krycek already!"

"I love him! Anyway, that doesn't take care of the rest of it. Aren't you afraid for the security of the project?"

"Mulder, I always was. Anyway, the other thing that Skinner said was that there's been another sighting, over Foothills Park in Palo Alto. I looked it up on a map and found it; it's actually up in the mountains above Palo Alto, off of Page Mill Road."

"The particulars of the sighting?"

"He's faxing them to me now. We're to interview the witness, one of the rangers who's working double shifts and should be there now. So get your coat on; it's chilly."

"I thought California was supposed to be warm?" he asked, getting into the Nissan. 

"That's Southern California, Mulder," she remarked, adjusting the mirrors.

"It was warm in Santa Cruz," he said, pulling on his seat belt.

"That was in the summer, remember?"

"I'm out of sunflower seeds," he said suddenly. 

"OK, we'll stop at the store for some more. Please don't spit them all over the car."

"I don't spit 'em, I throw 'em," he said, aggrieved.

"Well, you know."

************************************************************************

The members of the Consortium were on their way out west again, seated in a privately-chartered jet. The First Elder accepted his rum and Campari on the rocks and looked to his left. "He's been rounding up all the witnesses and interviewing them before the FBI has had a chance at them."

"Oh, really?" asked the Well-Manicured Man. "Where does he find the time?" he snorted.

"You are thinking here of Alex Krycek," said the First Elder, cocking an eyebrow at him. "The 'houseboy'? He is not the only thing on Spender's mind."

"What does he do with them? The witnesses? After he's done with them?" the WMM asked, sipping his Irish coffee.

"They've been disappearing. Three yesterday, one today so far."

"He's been killing them. Up to his old tricks, I see!" said the WMM. "Using an operative or doing it himself?"

"He did hire one. In fact, it's Scimitar he hired."

The WMM choked on his coffee. "That wet-behind-the-ears girl?"

"Yes, that wet-behind-the-ears girl who nearly killed the Deadly Nightshade. It's even money who's been actually pulling the trigger. We're meeting with him today at 2:00, Pacific time, as you know, in his Menlo Park office. The latest witness is supposed to be there."

"Oh, so we will be treated to another murder? How charming," said the WMM, stirring his coffee.

************************************************************************

"Hey, Scully, what if we get lost or something?" Mulder asked idly, spitting a sunflower seed hull out the window.

"How could we get lost? It's right on Page Mill Road!" she said irritably. "And don't spit those things. Do you know it's a $1,000 fine in this state to litter?"

"Sorry," he said amiably.

They wound their way up the steep hill to the park entrance. Scully rolled down her window. "You folks Palo Alto residents?" the ranger asked. Scully looked at him. He had what looked like a really bad sunburn down one side of his face. "We are residents," she said, "but we're also FBI," she added, showing her badge. "Is there somewhere we could go to talk?"

"Sure," the man said. "Hey, Ned!" he called to the other man in the booth. "Take over for me for a little while?"

"Sure, Jack. Slow day, anyway," he observed. Just then a Volvo station wagon full of kids and two harried-looking parents pulled up to the booth.

"The ranger station is at the bottom of this road," he said. "Just follow me!" He got in his pickup and led the way down. At the bottom, situated in the middle of a beautiful green lawn, sat the station. He opened up his office.

"Now," he said, "what can I do for you?"

"We're interested in what you saw last night. Please describe it in as much detail as you can."

"OK," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I was out making rounds and I saw these strange lights close by, like a helicopter maybe, but completely silent. The thing, or things, whatever they were, came right overhead and shone their beams on me. That's how I got this," he said, indicating the sunburn.

"Did you lose time?" asked Mulder intently.

"What? No, I didn't."

"We're trying to determine whether you were abducted," said Scully.

"Well, no, I'm here, aren't I?" the ranger said.

"They have some way of changing time," said Mulder. "Bending it. Let Scully examine you."

Scully looked him over quickly. No sign of any implants. "You look OK, but I'm going to have you X-rayed. I'll write you out a slip. Go to Stanford Hospital. Now, when this thing, or these things, left the area, which way did they go?"

"That way," said the ranger, pointing over the hills toward the Santa Cruz Mountains.

Later, he received a call at his booth. "Foothills, Ranger Thompson speaking...Oh...I've already been interviewed by the FBI...Oh, you're another government agency?" He sighed. "All right, I can be there in an hour...Half an hour, then...University at Oak Grove?"

He found the office in downtown Menlo Park easily enough, and was escorted into the inner sanctum by a young male secretary. It was a very large office, with several men seated in leather chairs. The huge oak desk was occupied by a very tall man who smoked and who did not rise when the ranger entered the room.

"What did you tell the FBI?" he asked bluntly.

Jack Thompson spread his hands and shook his head. "Just about what I saw."

"What did you see?"

"Well, I suppose it was a UFO: lights, odd movements, and I have this burn on my face."

"Yes, I see. Take a look at that oil painting behind you."

In confusion, the ranger turned around to look at the painting: the foothills of the Santa Cruz Mountains. "It's nice, but I don't see--"

The tall man rose, pulled out a pistol equipped with a silencer, and shot the ranger in the back of the head. Several of the other men in the room turned white, and one looked positively ill.

"Good God, man, did you have to do that?" asked the Well-Manicured Man, shaken.

"You've never had the stomach for my work," remarked the smoking man, grinding out his Morley.

He picked up the phone. "Bruno, have a few of the guys come over here. There's been an accident; have them clean it up."

The Well-Manicured Man looked at him, looked at the dead man lying crumpled on the carpet, blood and brains splattered everywhere, and he shook his head. "There's a lot to clean up," he said.

************************************************************************

Agent David White received a call at around 3 in the afternoon from FBI Headquarters. "White...Oh, hi, A.D....What? The witnesses have been what? Disappearing? ...Oh, yeah, I have an idea all right. Anything you can do about it?...Shit!...Can't you get that woman out of our house? She's a direct feed, from us to him...Crap!...yes, we check every time we get back after leaving the house...Yeah...Look, A.D., I don't like being interfered with like this. Before, it was just over Alex Krycek, now it's the whole shebang! Can't you...Yes..Oh, shit! Not what I wanted to hear! OK, OK, thanks, bye!"

"SCULLY!" he called.

"Yeah?" she said, popping her head out of the kitchen. "I'm right here, you don't have to yell!"

"Just got off the phone with Skinner. He said all our witnesses have been disappearing. The ranger you talked to a little while ago took off work and hasn't returned, and he fears the worst."

"Oh, crap!" she said, licking a wooden spoon. "He's murdering our witnesses? What's he up to?"

"He's up to murder, like he usually is. Wants to keep the truth away from us, as he usually does. Oh, how have you stood it for seven years, Dana?"

She shrugged. "I dunno," she said. "Mulder and I just had to keep plugging along. It's our job, Dave, as the X-File investigators, you know that. What else could I do? Quit? Not bloody likely!"

He shook his head. "I hate that man! If Mulder doesn't kill him, I will!"

She grinned. "Get in line, then! The entire world's population, if they knew what he was up to, would want to off him."

"You're right! What're you making, Dana?"

"Oh, something sweet and sticky and gooey."

"Mm, sounds good! In fact, it sounds a lot like you!" He swept her up in his arms and kissed her.

************************************************************************

Krycek was up and watching videos when the Smoking Man came home. "Can you lie on your back?" he asked brusquely.

"Yeah, it's not hurting right now."

"Good. Remove your pants and lie on your back."

Oh, he was so romantic, this one. "OK."

When Bill Runningwater came home, he was treated to a primal scene: Krycek on his back on the sectional, eyes at half-mast, hair spread on the sofa cushion, breathing fast and moaning as he reached the point of no return, and coming with a cry, arching his back, shuddering and spurting all over the man's hand, and then the older man coming deep within Krycek with a loud groan.

The man kissed Krycek. "That was wonderful," he said. "Bill," he said, without looking up, "get us a hand towel, please. And give Alex a sponge bath. I don't think he can shower yet. And, oh, give him something for pain. And keep to a schedule on that. I'm going out for a while again."

Krycek sat in the sunken bathtub in four inches of water while Bill Runningwater gently washed him. "I'm gonna wash your back, Alexei, and it might hurt." Krycek gritted his teeth and it did hurt a bit. 

"May I have something for the pain?" he asked.

Runningwater sighed. "Yes, you may. I really hate to give it to you but I'm under orders to do it. I feel like such a pusher! Come on out of the tub now and I'll dress your hurts again."

Krycek dressed and went out to the kitchen, where Bill was making turkey leftovers into something heavenly. "I'm ready now," he said.

"Have a seat," the vet said, indicating the barstools. He went down the hall and returned with a syringe, a rubber tube and an alcohol swab. He tied off Krycek and carefully injected him.

"Oh, fuck," breathed Krycek, nearly falling off the seat. "You guys are turning me into a junkie, aren't you?"

"You already are," said Bill Runningwater grimly.

"What's this all about?"

"It's to control you, Alexei. He figured it was better than chaining you to the bed again."

"Oh, my God," said Krycek. "And I'm already addicted?"

"You've been mainlining it for three days? Yes, you are addicted."

"Will Mulder still love me?"

Runningwater looked at him. "Mulder loves you unconditionally. Mulder loves you for all time, with an eternal, searing flame that is never extinguished."

"I'm calling him," said Krycek, reaching for the phone.

"Oh, no, you don't."

"He'll never know. I'm calling him."

************************************************************************

Mulder was sitting in his apartment listening to music and digesting the information that Scully and White had given him: the witnesses were disappearing, presumably killed; and he was working on a package of sunflower seeds he'd piled on the coffee table. The phone rang, and he answered it: "Mulder."

"Mulder, this is Alex."

"Alex? ALEX! How the hell are you?"

"Mulder, that Mahdib bitch snitched me off about you and me, even the fisting, Mulder, and the Old Man beat the crap out of me...had to have sutures in my back. Don't trust her, Mulder!"

"He hit you that hard? I will kill him! Scully'd already come to basically that conclusion about Mahdib, and no, we don't trust her; but we can't get rid of her, either."

"Shit. The other thing, Mulder...I hate to have to say this, but he's been shooting me up with heroin. Mainlining. And I'm already addicted."

"Oh, God!" said Mulder, wildly sad. "I am so sorry! He beat you and then he turned you into a junkie? Is there no limit to the things this monster does?"

"No," said Krycek, "there isn't."

"Are you high now?"

"Yeah, I am. I'm really wasted. I'm so sorry! Mulder, is there any way you could come over now?"

"I take it he's gone? Alex, that's extremely risky. If he found us he would kill us both."

"You're right, you're right. Maybe I should go over to your house?"

"If he gets back and you're not there, he may come looking for you. This is the first place he'd look. Don't you remember what happened in Santa Cruz?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Alex, you're not thinking straight. Wait for a time when you know he'll be out of town. Then we'll get together."

"Miss me?"

"Oh Alex, I miss you, I love you, I need you, body and soul! My heart lives in a small space when you're not around. You expand me, Alex, you make me soar."

"You feel this way even though I've been with another man?"

"Well, Alex, look: I hate it that you have sex with him. It kills me! But it doesn't make me love you less; it just makes me hate him more."

"OK, do you still love me even though I have orgasms with him?"

Mulder sighed. "Alex, NOTHING could make me love you less. NOTHING. That's a mechanical thing anyway. By the way, I've known for a couple months. Sharon told me."

"Oh. Oh, shit. Well, OK. Thanks, Mulder," he said, lamely and druggily.

"What's he doing now, Alex? He's been killing our witnesses."

"I dunno. Probably murdering someone. He's good at that."

Mulder laughed grimly. "Yes, he is."

"How does he know about the witnesses?"

"Oh, a leak. Our people, probably," Mulder said. "I have my suspicions."

"Who, Kersh? 

"Yes. And maybe others."

"Shit!" said Krycek. "Want me to kill him for you?"

"Yes; why haven't you done it yet?"

"I don't know. I can't."

"You can," said Mulder. "Take one of your guns and point it at his head. Pull the trigger."

"I can't, Mulder, I just can't."

"Uh-huh," said Mulder. "I thought not. You have some affection for the old rascal, no matter what he does."

"Oh, I have affectionate feelings toward a man who abuses and hurts and tortures me?"

"And makes you come on a regular basis; what was that you said a couple of months ago, 'about six times a day'?"

"Mulder! Not fair!"

"Actually, I know the real reason, and you must have sensed it if Sharon didn't tell you outright, as she told me. The man's really, really bad karma must get him...Not one of us. I'm not mad at you Alex. You're doing what you're supposed to do...I'm really, really sorry I teased you. My heart holds only love and pity for you, something else entirely for this man who is my father. My father! What a terrible injustice to me that he is!"

"Don't whine, Mulder. If he weren't your father, he wouldn't have protected you all these years, saved you from being killed many times. He loves you."

"He blew up the boxcar."

"You weren't in it!"

"He didn't know that. Also, he killed his other son."

Krycek sighed. "Trust me on this one. You're his fair-haired boy, brilliant, courageous, tough, everything his son Jeffrey wasn't."

"If he loves me so much, then why doesn't he give me back my lover?"

"I was his lover first."

"Details. You belong with me."

"That's absolutely true; do you have any idea how many times a day I torture myself with that fact?

"He needs to let you go."

"Haven't we had this conversation before? He will not let me go until A) I lose my looks or he tires of me for some other reason; B) he dies, or C) I die. That's it, Mulder."

"Well, I'll pray for lung cancer, then."

"Mulder."

"Yes?"

"I love you very, very much. The sun won't send its fiery fingers westward in the morning; the moon won't hang, a nacreous globe in the night sky, without you."

"I love you too, very very much. The butterfly wings of Hope are torn and dulled when you're not here. The -- oh, you're outdoing me, Alex!"

Krycek laughed. "And I wasn't a lit major! Aaak! I hear someone at the front door! Love and kisses, kisses, Mulder!"

"All the good, warm feelings spreading like butter on the hot toast of the world to you, Alex, my love! I love you, kiss kiss!"

Krycek hung up the phone. It was of course the Smoking Man, looking pissed about something. He glanced at Krycek. "Alex, go to the bedroom at once!"

Krycek went to the bedroom, sat down on the bed. The Smoking Man stood in the doorway, holding a lit Morley. "Alex, how do you feel?" he asked.

"All right."

"You don't seem very drugged. Did you get a shot?"

"Yes, I did."

The man conferred with Bill Runningwater in the hall, and that party entered the room shaking his head and carrying the "works." "What?" said Krycek. "I just got one!"

"You're getting another one," said Runningwater grimly. "Hold out your arm."

Krycek did as he was told and was mainlined again. This time, the initial "rush" did not leave him. He fell back on the bed sighing in ecstasy. The Smoking Man lay on the bed fully-clothed and embraced Krycek. "You never wear anything but those damned suits," remarked Krycek idiotically. The words were muffled because Krycek's face was buried in the man's chest.

The man laughed.

"Are you gonna fuck me?"

"Eventually, yes.

"Why?"

The man laughed again. "You really are loaded! Because I love you, because I'm attracted to you, because I want to, because it feels good, because I can, and because you seem to like it."

"Those're a lot of reasons. You love me?"

"Yes, I do, very much."

"I seem to've had this conversation a few minutes ago," said Krycek, in his drugged stupor.

"Ouch!" he said, as his head was hauled up by the hair. "What're you doing?" he asked.

"You mean to say, you had this conversation with Fox Mulder a few minutes ago?" the Smoking Man asked, dangerously.

Krycek realized his error too late. "I was hallucinating?" he asked hopefully.

The man slapped his face. Five or six times. Krycek lost count. "You never learn, do you?" the CSM cried. "You just never learn! Unzip your jeans and turn over!"

Krycek did as he was told and was dimly aware as his jeans and shorts were pulled off him. The man lubed his cock and mounted him, thrusting hard into him. "Who's your lover, Alexei?" he asked.

"You are!" Krycek gasped out.

"Who's your one and only?"

"You are!"

"Whom...do...you...love?"

"You!"

"I want to hear...I want to hear that when you come! I want to hear 'I love you!'"

"Touch me!" gasped Krycek.

"Not till you...promise me...you'll say it!"

"I promise! Touch me!"

The man grasped his cock and stroked it. Krycek groaned, rubbed against his hand. He was stroked and fucked till a transformer blew in his brain and he cried, "Ah. AH! I love you lisitsa!" and shot hot come all over the bed and the man's hand. The Old Man's climax was triggered by Krycek's contractions and the incredibly arousing sight of his orgasm, and he held Krycek around the waist, penetrated him as deeply as he could and screamed Alex's name, coming inside him.

"Alex," the man remarked, "seven years, and I've never gotten enough of you. Seven years, and you're still remarkably beautiful and sexy. I'll forgive you your indiscretion. This time. The ban on talking to Fox Mulder still holds, though," he said, sitting up and reaching for his Morleys. He lit one. "Someday you'll learn. I have hope that this new...regimen will help."

"Give me a drag," said Krycek.

"You always ask that, and the answer is always the same: no. Nicotine is harder to kick than heroin."

************************************************************************

Mulder received the call from Skinner shortly after he'd hung up with Krycek. 

"The man makes me want to quit my job," he started, and Mulder knew exactly who he was talking about. 

"Yeah, he makes me sorry I'm a son," said Mulder. "What's he done now?"

"Oh, he killed that ranger. Look, Mulder, another report came in last night; it didn't land on my desk till now. Some old mountain man in the hills, or possibly mountains west of Skyline Boulevard in unincorporated Santa Clara County, look it up on the map, reported seeing lights and the thing evidently took one of his cows."

Mulder laughed. "Maybe they were hungry for a nice rare steak."

"Well, he said he'd seen it the previous night and the one before that, and nothing untoward happened...didn't call it in because he was afraid people would think he was crazy. Look, his name is Jeb, short for Jebediah, I think, Smith, and he lives off five or six miles of dirt road. Bear Lake Road. Rent an SUV, and all three of you go up there and check this out. Maybe this time you'll get a chance to interview a witness before he gets to 'em first."

"Well, hey, we did interview that ranger today."

"But the investigation wasn't complete, because you never got him into X-Ray. He croaked. The body was found a few minutes ago dumped off of Page Mill Road. Shot in the back of the head, execution-style. Obviously, we know who did it, and he probably did it himself. But we can't touch him. Look, you didn't hear this from me, but he's got Kersh in his back pocket."

Mulder nodded silently. "You want us to go out there today? It's pretty late."

"It'll quickly change from 'pretty late' to 'too late' if you don't. My guess is that, unless he's otherwise occupied, Mulder, and I'm sorry to put it that way, he'll be sending his boys up there to Bear Lake Road pretty fast. Arm yourselves heavily. He may even be there himself."

"Shit!" said Mulder. "I really don't relish a showdown with Dear Old Dad, you know?"

"It doesn't have to come to that. Just take precautions."

"Yeah, he told me that too. Seems there's a little informant, or maybe two at least, in the Bureau."

************************************************************************

He leaned against the door frame. "Are we fighting a losing battle, here, Scully?"

"We can never give up," she responded, taking another bite of bun.

White drove the Jeep all the way up Page Mill Road to Skyline, then hunted diligently for the cut-off. He found it at last, turning left off Skyline onto a set of dirt tracks. "Guess this is it," he muttered. They jounced along for miles until Scully began to look a little green. 

"Stop the car!" she said to White, got out and threw up.

"Sticky buns," said Mulder, mildly.

They drove on in silence, broken only by straining Jeep noises, the crunch of tree parts and rocks under the tires, and the small, sharp cracks issuing from Mulder's direction: he was eating sunflower seeds. Then "--what's that!" hissed Scully. They stopped the car and strained to listen: a low "whup-whup-whup."

"Oh, MAN!" said Scully. "It's a helicopter. On the ground. Up there!" she indicated a clearing ahead of them.

The latest seed fell from Mulder's mouth. "I'll kill him, I will kill him!" he said.

"Oh, you and who else?" groused White. They piled out and ran through the trees, Sigs drawn, and came to the edge of the clearing. There they saw the helicopter and several men running through a field toward a small house; near the house, a single figure of menace, a very tall man in a black trenchcoat. His back was to them.

Mulder took off running. "Mulder! Don't!" cried Scully and White together. He ignored them, reached the man and put a gun in his back. He turned around slowly, shook out a cigarette and lit it, smiling slightly.

"Well, Fox. Why are you wasting time? Pull the trigger!"

Mulder cocked the gun, put it to the man's head. "What are you doing here?"

"Same thing you're doing here! Interviewing a witness."

"Yeah, I've heard about your interviewing style! Where is he?"

"He seems to have disappeared," the man said. "Honestly."

"We'll check," said Mulder. "Now you let Alex Krycek go or I'll blow your head off!"

"Fox, Fox. Such filial devotion! Alex Krycek can leave at any time. He has one of the world's fastest cars and a lot of money in the bank."

Scully and White were now at the house, searching the rooms, under the beds, in the closets. They came out a few moments later, shrugging, "nada." "We'll check the fields around here!" called Mulder. "You," he said to the Smoking Man, "I heard what you've done to Alex, you!"

The man exhaled smoke. "And it's all due to you, Fox, isn't it? You won't leave him alone!"

"I really oughta kill you," said Mulder. "It would solve so many problems at once!"

"But you won't, will you?" Mulder's hand trembled a long moment, then withdrew the Sig, holstered it. He had to admire the man's cool. The CSM squinted at him through a haze of smoke. "I knew you couldn't. They won't find anything here, Fox, your friends."

Scully and White came trotting up. Scully jabbed a finger at the Smoking Man. "You. You'd better not have done anything with our witness!"

"He's my witness, too, and he's gone." 

"Maybe he was abducted last night after the cow thing." White offered. "I found a phone off the hook, stove burner on. It's remarkable the whole damned thing didn't burn down."

Scully, facing him, gestured wildly and put a finger to her lips. "Are you losing it?" she hissed.

"Thank you for the information," the Smoking Man said amiably, grinding his cigarette under his heel.

************************************************************************

"It's granulating," said Bill Runningwater, looking at Krycek's back. "Looks good! You heal very fast!"

"Thanks, I'm glad!" Krycek said. "It itches, though."

"Yes, and don't scratch it, whatever you do. You'll infect yourself that way."

"All right."

"Are you hungry, Alexei? I've fixed a pretty nice dinner."

"Yeah. I guess. Where's the Old Man, anyway?"

"I don't know. He went out, that's all I know."

"On one of his errands of mercy?" Krycek asked, and snorted with laughter.

"Ah...you're funny, Alexei! Have some dinner."

Halfway through, the Navajo rose suddenly. "Oh...I forgot!" He returned with a syringe.

"Oh, no. Ooooh, no," said Krycek, eyeing it distrustfully. "No, no!"

"I have to give you this, Alex. I'm under strict orders. Hold out your arm!"

"It makes it hard for me to think about Mulder!" he wailed.

"That, I imagine, is the idea."

"Then no! No! I refuse!"

"Alex," he said patiently. "You have a choice here. You can take this shot, or I can call in the goons and have you cuffed to the bed, or to some other piece of heavy, immovable furniture, to be released at the Old Man's discretion."

"Bill," Krycek said, tears in his eyes, "why do you let him do these things to me? And why are you a party to them?"

Runningwater shook his head. "I'm his oldest and best friend."

"You're his ONLY friend! He kills all the others!"

"As I was saying, I'm his best friend, and I'm yours, with the possible exception of Fox Mulder. Don't make me choose! Alex, I have to give you this shot. Hold out your arm."

Krycek did as he was asked and was shot up. "That does feel really good," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Really good."

"What happens, if you don't get these on schedule," the vet said, "is that you start going into withdrawal."

"I've noticed," said Krycek lazily, "that I don't get the [yawn] same effect I used to get."

"I know, and that means you've developed tolerance already. We can keep giving you higher doses."

"I got an extra one earlier today. Is that what that was about?"

"Yes. See, the funny thing is that although he admires your wildness, Alex, he wants you very docile, very malleable. Maybe a better way to put it is that he wants your wildness all for himself..."

"Hm," said Krycek, spearing a piece of turkey. "This is good, whatever it is."

"It's a type of stir-fry. Glad you like it."

The back door opened and the Smoking Man came through it. "Hi, Bill," he said, but he had eyes only for Krycek. "Alex," he said, turning his face up and kissing him, "Oh, Alex!"

Krycek's beryl eyes were half-open. "Had a shot, again, huh? That's good!" He sat down next to Krycek, put his arms around him. "What are we eating, my love? Hey, that's pretty good, Bill!" he said, tasting it.

Krycek regarded him. "Kill any more witnesses today?" he asked.

************************************************************************

On the long drive back, bumping up the rocky dirt tracks, Scully had to call a halt twice to vomit in the bushes. "Are you sure she's not pregnant?" Mulder asked White mildly, listening to poor Scully retching.

White shrugged. "The tests are coming out negative and inconclusive," he said, shaking his head. "I'm gonna have it done by a hospital, though. I think she might be."

Scully rejoined them. "I'm sorry, guys," she said bravely. "I don't know what's wrong with me!" White rubbed her back solicitously.

"I do, though," said Mulder, cracking a seed. "Is it a boy or a girl, Scully?"

"It's probably food poisoning," she remarked.

Mulder rolled his eyes and ate his seed.

"Mulder, are you getting those seeds all over again?"

"No, I'm spitting them out. They're biodegradable. So, you two think that guy was abducted?"

"Could have been," said Scully cautiously. "At least the Smoking Man didn't get to him."

"We think," said Mulder. "We think." The roar of a helicopter taking off disturbed further conversation. Mulder poked his head out of the Jeep. "Heading northeast," he said. "Moffett Field."

"Yeah," said White. "What connection to the Armed Forces does he have this time?"

Mulder laughed. "Has them where he wants them, as usual, I'm sure." As he does Alex. My Alex.

"Really? All of them?"

Mulder shrugged. "Hell, I don't know. The man is the terror of the civilized world. He controls whatever and whomever he pleases."

"And you had him at gunpoint, and you didn't shoot him," White mused.

"I couldn't," admitted Mulder.

"No, no one can. I wonder why?"

************************************************************************

After dinner, Krycek retired to the den and played around on the piano. He found some chords and soon was playing a haunting popular song of twenty years ago. "Sometimes I feel I've got to run away, I've got to get away from the pain you drive into love. The love we share seems to go nowhere, and I've lost my light; I toss and turn, I can't sleep at night."

Bill Runningwater came in silently and had a seat on the leather couch.

"Once I ran to you, now I run from you. This tainted love you've given, I give you all a boy could give you, take my tears and that's not living. Tainted love, tainted love."

"Now I know I've got to run away, I've got to get away...To make things right, you need someone to hold you tight... Don't touch me, please, I cannot stand the way you seize. I love you though you've hurt me so, now I'm gonna pack my things and go. Touch me, baby, tainted love."

"Oh, my God," said the Navajo softly, when the song had ended, "did you write that, Alexei?"

Krycek looked up from the piano and smiled. "No, I didn't, but it fits, doesn't it? Rather eerily?"

"Yes, it does. So that's how you feel about him? There is love?"

"Tainted love," Krycek amended.

"It's great that you can do that, to express yourself through music. I'd like to see you write your own stuff, too. Didn't you minor in art?"

Krycek nodded.

"Well then, why not paint it out, your emotions, your troubles? And why don't you play that song for him?"

"He'd hit the roof!"

"No, he wouldn't. He'd know you cared for him. That's what he really wants, Alexei."

"Well, OK, sometime, then," Krycek said, unwillingly. "Where do you think I could set up a little art studio?"

"Oh, we could use this room; you could use the patio when the weather's OK."

"I'm gonna go to an art supply store and get all the stuff right now!" said Krycek enthusiastically.

"Can you drive?" asked Bill carefully.

"Yes, why couldn't I? Oh. Look, I'm OK now."

"All right," said Runningwater. "He'd never forgive me if you got into an accident or something. Maybe you should take a cab. I'll call one. Where do you want to go? University Art in Palo Alto?"

Bill called the cab and Krycek sat waiting in the living room. The Old Man paced around the room and up and down the hallway. There were three lit cigarettes in the ashtray and one in his hand.

"What's eating you, Boss?" Runningwater asked.

"Business," said the CSM, not looking up from his pacing.

"I heard the stock market took a dive today," offered Bill.

"BUSINESS business. Our witness didn't show today, and it's thought he was abducted."

"Oh. I see." 

Krycek listened with great interest. Had Mulder been there?

"I'm driving you, Alex," the man said suddenly, stubbing out his cigarette.

Everyone in the University Art store, every patron and every clerk, couldn't help noticing the couple: the tall older man in the elegant business suit shepherding the young man of surpassing beauty, like the prettiest movie star imaginable, through the store, his right arm linked to the younger man's left arm, so that he might not stray, and perhaps to steady him, as he swayed on his feet a little. The clerk who volunteered to wait on him was a young Stanford art student, smitten and made speechless by the young man's looks. Perhaps the older man was his father? "Um," she finally gulped, "what were you looking for?"

"Oils, and I know the colors I need, stretched canvases, brushes, turpentine, brush soap, palette," the man reeled off. The clerk gaped at him. That sexy, breathy voice! Unbelievable!

Standing in line at the checkout counter, they again caused a stir. A man, perhaps 40, Latino and very handsome, sidled up to Krycek. "Do you want my number?"

"No, he doesn't," said the Smoking Man calmly, taking the slip of paper and tearing it up. "And you can get out."

Something in the man's face scared the Latino, and he exited the store.

"Anywhere else you'd like to go, Alex?" the man asked, adjusting the rear-view mirror.

"Just home," he said.

"All right. Did you notice how everyone looked at you in the store?" he asked casually.

"No, I was too busy buying paints."

"Well, they did. All want you, male, female, old and young. But you're mine," he said, kissing him. "Mine. I love you, Alexei."

Tainted love.

************************************************************************

Mulder had turkey-leftovers with Scully and White. "Wonder how Mahdib is doing? Or what she's doing?" White asked idly. "We haven't checked on her lately."

Mulder scowled. "I hope she rots," he said. "After what she did to Alex!"

Scully looked up from her turkey-casserole thing, which she was scarfing enthusiastically. "Technically, it was the Smoking Man who did that to Alex, but yes, she was ultimately responsible. ALTHOUGH," she said, pointing her knife at Mulder, "You did have a part in it, you know."

Mulder looked down. "It was the fisting that got to him the worst."

"Hey, we're eating, here," said White.

"You shouldn't do that, anyway," chided Scully. "It's a very unsafe-sex practice. 'member what I told you about safe sex? You certainly don't practice it with Alex!"

"Well, looks like you and White haven't been practicing safe sex either!" said Mulder, aggrieved.

"I just have a good appetite," said Scully. "Pass the potatoes, please, also the Parmesan cheese."

White leaned over and whispered something in her ear. "All right," she said, getting up from the table, and went into the bathroom. "Hey!" she squealed, running back five minutes later. "It's blue, it's blue! Look, look! I'm pregnant!!"

"Well, duh," said Mulder. "Congratulations, Scully!" he said, getting up and hugging her warmly.

She was dancing around excitedly. "If it's a girl, we'll name her Sharon Dana, if it's a boy, Fox David!"

"Well, I'm honored," he said.

Later, clearing dishes, he asked her, "Hey, Scully, wish it were me?"

"Now what the hell kind of question is that?" she asked, rescuing an artichoke heart from a plate and popping it into her mouth. "I'm in love with David, you know that."

"Just wondering," he smirked.

"Oho, such an ego!" she said. "Well," she added thoughtfully, "in answer to your question, no, only because I wouldn't want to give that man grandchildren!"

************************************************************************

Mahdib, not having been invited to Christmas dinner and sequelae, dined alone in her apartment on a halibut steak and broccoli. She watched TV while she ate, moodily thinking about this and that. She bitterly regretted having done what she'd done to Alex, but there was no undoing it. His anguished cries as he was beaten would lurk at the edges of her consciousness forever. And, and, she realized, there would be no turning back, no running to Scully crying out her guilt; she was caught forever by this man, a hapless fly in his sticky webs, because she'd made a deal with him, because she'd declared loyalty to him and his dark aims. How was she to know when she made it, that it was a pact with the very Devil on Earth?

Well, he paid her very well. She was going to refurnish her apartment and get a nicer car, for starters. She wondered, lifting halibut to her pretty mouth, whether she'd ever have a chance with Alex again. Oh, probably not. Last time she'd seen him, he'd tried to kill her. She touched her throat; still sore. She was curious about their relationship. Yes, she knew they were lovers; but she wondered how Krycek felt about it. If he allowed himself to be caught in flagrante with Mulder, surely he couldn't care that much about the Old Man? And this gay thing. She refused to believe that Alex was queer; she remembered her own relationship with him in college. They'd made love sweetly, and frequently. What had turned him?

The phone rang. "Hello?...Oh, hi, Boss. What's up?...oh, nothing. They keep sweeping for bugs...No, I haven't seen him around at all...Do you? Where?...Oh...No, but I can look it up on a map...Yeah...Yes, I understand...It's pretty dark, mind if I check it out tomorrow?...Yes...How's Alex? Oh, good!...OK, bye."

Mahdib leaned back. Well, she had a new assignment, one that promised to be interesting.

************************************************************************

After dinner, Mulder wandered back to his apartment, picked up his phone and punched in a number. "Froggy?" he asked, when it was answered.

"Mulder? Hey, man, how are you doing? BYERS! LANGLY! Mulder's on the line!"

"I'm doing pretty well, I guess. Look, we're here in Palo Alto, California and we're just in over our heads. UFO sightings everywhere, but every time we locate a witness the Smoking Man kills him, usually before we can interview him."

Frohike laughed. "Sorry to laugh, Mulder, but it's par for the course, isn't it? How can we help you?"

"Well, you can help us by housesitting while we go check things out. We've got a live-in spy and we have to sweep constantly for bugs. We can't get rid of her because the Smoking Man has the bureau all wrapped up. Oh, we've got at least one informant in the Bureau too. Our little domestic spook snitched on me and Alex and the guy whaled the daylights out of Alex and now has him addicted to heroin. Now do you see what I mean?"

Frohike whistled. "Jesus God, man! That's extreme even for him!"

"Yes it is, and it's touch and go for us because no doubt the CSM is seeking to re-make a pact with the aliens and Frohike, it's gonna be worse this time, I just feel it in my bones. He has something planned that will make the previous deal look like pulling daisies. And we have no idea of how to begin to fight him."

"BYERS!"

Byers picked up the extension, cleared his throat. "Byers here."

"Byers, this is Mulder. We have an emergency situation here, and we need you guys' help. Will you help us? There's a couple extra apartments here you can live in free of charge. I'll clear it with Skinner."

"We'll be on a flight tomorrow. I'll call you back with the details. Langly, what is it?" He put the receiver against his chest. "Oh, Langly says, 'why not just kill him'?"

"Yeah, and spend the rest of my short life on Death Row?"

"Well, why doesn't Krycek kill him?"

"Same reason, probably."

"Probably," said Byers cautiously. He sounded unconvinced.

"Well look, we just can't go around assassinating people we don't like, Byers!"

"It's too bad, too," said Frohike. "Langly just confirmed the reservations. We'll be flying into SFO tomorrow at noon."

"Want me to pick you guys up?"

"No, we'll take a limo," Byers said carelessly.

"Oh, that's right, you guys are like independently wealthy or something now!"

"Well, not quite, but close," said Byers. "WE'RE RICH!" hollered Langly from somewhere near the phone.

Mulder laughed. "I'll be so happy and relieved to see you guys!" He couldn't help it; first one tear, then another and another, rolled down his face.

"Got a cold, Mulder?" asked Frohike with concern. "We've been having really bad flu back here, and --"

"No, no! I'm just crying," said Mulder. "You know me!"

"Yes," said Byers. "Don't worry about it, Mulder. We'll take care of you!"

************************************************************************

Mulder knocked on Scully's door, bawling and banging on the door until she let him in. She was wearing a nightgown, robe and bunny slippers. "Mulder, what's the matter?" she asked. "Come in, sit down! Poor baby!"

"Everything's all fucked up! I'm in over my head on this case, the Earth's gonna be sold out to the aliens, I have the worst father in the history of the world, unless you count Svetlana Alliluyeva's father, I've lost my lover to said father, I'm scared, I'm miserable and I can't even use PMS as an excuse!"

"Mulder! Oh, poor thing! Let me fix you a cup of tea," and she bustled off to the kitchen. "Sugar?" she called.

"What? Oh, yeah. Scully, where's your Kleenex?"

"I'll get you some. Now," she said, coming out with the tea and the Kleenex, "Let's just take this from the top, OK? You said you were in over your head on this case? Mulder, you're the MVP of the crack team of the world."

"Maybe so," he said, "but Scully, I can't win against that man. We can't win. No one can."

"Well," she said, crossing her legs and sipping her tea. "Your emotions can defeat you before you've gone into the battle. I know you're a very sensitive man, and it's OK that you cry, in fact, I want you to cry, and it's OK to be afraid, too. We're all afraid. I'm terribly afraid. That scene in the forest today, when we learned he'd gotten there before us? I was dying a thousand deaths. And, Mulder, if you were afraid, you certainly didn't show it. By the way, holstering your pistol, not killing that man, was the bravest thing I've ever seen you do."

He nodded. "It was the hardest thing I've ever done, if that's what you mean."

"I think we can win, Mulder, I really think we have a chance. It's three good minds against one."

"Not really. He's got the Consortium behind him again, remember."

She looked at him, brow furrowed in concentration. "You can't let him intimidate you, Mulder. He seeks to do that at all times, you, because you are the leader of our team, you, because you're a rival in love."

He started.

"Yes, Mulder. As long as you have anything to do with Alex Krycek, you have him to deal with. And it'll get harder, not easier, I guarantee you."

"Alex is addicted to heroin! He did it to him!" Mulder cried, and sobbed afresh. "Can you believe that?"

She nodded gravely, took another sip of tea. "Yes, I know that, and I find it in keeping with his character. This is the most recent in his efforts to control Alex: the threatening phone calls, the bodily taking him out of his home of residence, the beatings, the mind control, the chaining to the bed; I am sure there are others. Mulder, heroin addiction isn't harder on the body than the common cold, and I'm sure they're...titrating the doses so he's in no pain, and he's in no danger of an overdose. Yes, at some point we'll have to get him into rehab and get him off it, but for now, please don't make it any scarier than it has to be."

"Now, about the Earth's being sold out to the aliens, Mulder, for sixty years it was anyway."

"I've just got this horrible feeling that he's got something new and dreadful in store for us. It's just a hunch, Scully. A terrible hunch."

She looked at him thoughtfully, stirred her tea. "Drink up, Mulder, your tea is getting cold. Any idea of what this new and dreadful thing might be?"

He shook his head. "I just don't know. It's just a feeling."

"Now, this about your having the worst father in the history of the world except maybe for Josef Stalin, is that a sane way to think?"

"Yes," he said miserably. "It is. He is. Look at all the people he's killed, maimed, sold into medical experimentation."

"Mulder," she said, drinking the last of her tea, "you have a point. But you can't help biology; you can't choose your parents! You have a charming mother; and the man who raised you was a fine human being. And when you moon over Krycek, remember that he killed Bill Mulder!"

"Some day I'll ask my mother why she did it," he said darkly. "Sharon said she was in love with the guy!"

Scully raised one eyebrow. "Sharon always spoke the truth. He's a very charismatic person, Mulder, and was probably very handsome. Poor Bill Mulder never had a chance. You know what's odd, Mulder?"

"Hmm?"

"He must have visited your family at that house on the Vineyard, yet you have no memory of him."

"Maybe I've repressed it or something. Maybe I hated him."

"I don't think you would have hated him. It's odd...Anyway, you've 'lost [your] lover to said father', next item," she said. That's defeatist thinking, Mulder, and it's not even true. Alex still loves you and calls you every chance he gets, even if he gets in trouble for it, and Mulder, he only lives 7 or 8 miles away at the most. He'll be around probably in a couple days looking for you."

"Think so?" Mulder asked, looking up hopefully.

"I know so. I'm gonna prepare you for the way he might look: dopey, spacey, drowsy. He can't help it. Just bear with him, be really gentle with him."

"Oh," said Mulder, "I would never be anything but gentle with him. I love him so much!"

"And he loves you so much, and is probably worried that you won't accept him."

"Oh," said Mulder, "that's incredible!"

"Nevertheless, probably true. Down to your final points: you are scared and miserable. Well, we covered those two early on. Do you still feel scared and miserable?"

"Well, I feel a little better. Is there more tea?"

"I'll go get it. Mulder, if you feel you're becoming depressed, I can write you a script for Prozac. I'm serious. It's nonaddictive and will work gradually to make you feel better."

"OK, Dr. Scully, why don't you do that? Oh, I almost forgot! I called the Gunmen and they said they'd be right over! Like, tomorrow at noon!"

"Why that's wonderful!" she said, coming into the room with his tea, her face wreathed in smiles. "That's great! They will help us, Mulder. They can help out a lot! Did you tell Skinner?"

"No, but I will. I'm hoping to get them paid for this project. They, well, they don't strictly need to get paid, but I want them to have a good stipend."

"I'm sure Skinner will do his best to authorize it."

"He..Oh, I forgot, fuck a duck! He has to get it past Kersh, Kersh is in Someone's pocket!"

Scully looked at him and giggled. "I'm sorry, Mulder, sometimes the whole absurdity of the situation just strikes me as really, really funny! It's such a soap opera!"

"Well, you may laugh, Oh Expectant One, but what kind of world do you want to bring your baby into? By the way, how far along do you think you are?"

"Oh, probably two, three months."

"So this happened between Utah and Santa Cruz? Geez, what were you two doing?"

"Screwing like crazed weasels," she said, and smiled prettily.

************************************************************************

"What's this?" asked Krycek, picking up a tiny something from the dining room table.

"It's nothing," said the Smoking Man hurriedly, confiscating it.

"It looked like a computer chip. Why would you have one just lying around?"

"I wouldn't, and you didn't see it," the man said, lighting a Morley.

"Well, geez, OK, I guess I wasn't supposed to see it," said Krycek. "Want to hear this song that Bill thinks I should perform for you?"

"Yes, I do."

They went into the den, and Krycek sat down at the piano. "This should really be done on a synthesizer, but I'll make do," and he sang "Tainted Love."

The man was riveted. "God," he breathed, "so that's what it's all about for you! You do love me!" and he embraced Krycek. "Alex, come to bed!"

He made such frantic love to Krycek that the young man wondered whether he'd be able to walk or sit the next day, but the great shuddering orgasm he had made it seem worthwhile. They lay together on the bed, the man touching and caressing Krycek in wonder that a creature so beautiful should be entrusted to him.

"How do you feel, Alex?"

"Fine," he said blandly. "Well, actually, I feel a little anxious and antsy."

"OK," he said. "Bill! Come here, bring a shot!"

Krycek was shot up and felt pretty high. "Is that a higher dose?" he asked.

Runningwater looked at the Old Man. "Oh, so it IS a higher dose," he said. He didn't know how to feel about it. On the one hand, he hated the fact that these two were colluding in his chemical enslavement; on the other, it felt pretty good. He lay back on the bed. "Hold me," he said.

************************************************************************

Mahdib received the call at 10 PM. 

"Forget about it," the man said, "it's a lost cause. I want you to concentrate on the goings-on around you. When the next report comes in, you can investigate that. And when I say investigate, I mean terminate. Is that understood?"

"Sure," she said.

"If Alex Krycek shows up looking for Mulder, I want to know about it, stat. Don't do anything about it; just call me. Immediately. If you can't reach me at the house, call my cell phone. All right?"

"OK, Boss," she said. "Anything else?"

"Yes, please come by the house tomorrow morning around ten. If I'm out, Bill Runningwater, the Indian, will take care of you."

"Take care of what?" she asked curiously.

"Your raise."

************************************************************************

Mulder placed a call at 10:15. "Yes?" the cultured voice answered.

"Alex Krycek, please."

Mulder heard the click of a lighter. "Fox, Alex is fast asleep. May I relay some message to him?"

"You can go get him, that's what you can do." You bastard.

"I can, but I won't. He's sleeping soundly and I'm not going to wake him."

"Oh, he's sleeping from all the heroin you give him?"

"What makes you say that?"

"It's common knowledge, Dad," Mulder said.

"He requires pain medication, and I give it to him. Anyway, it's none of your business."

"The hell it isn't. I--"

"This conversation is ending." Click.

Mulder stared at the phone in frustration. How was he going to be able to contact Krycek?

He got into bed wearing long johns under his jammies, as it was cold at night here and his heater didn't seem to be working properly. Alex, he thought, and touched himself.

He dozed off and was awakened sometime in the middle of the night by a frantic knocking. Sleepily, he opened the door and was astounded to see Krycek standing there. "Alex!" he said when he could find voice. "Come in! I--" and his words were cut off as Krycek took him in a slow-burn kiss, delicately nipping his lips, nibbling on his full lower lip, pushing him backwards into the room and onto the couch, exploring his mouth with a sensitive tongue, and his hands running underneath Mulder's nightclothes, stroking his chest and downward, reaching under his pajama bottoms to find his cock, already hugely hard, and pumping that. Mulder gasped.

Krycek whispered in his ear, "Have you checked for bugs?"

"Yeah, a couple hours ago. Don't stop!"

Krycek nuzzled his ear, stroked his cock and balls. "What would you like me to do?" he murmured.

"Suck me, and do that thing with your hand."

Krycek kissed him deeply, tongue reaching down his throat, licked and sucked his lips, kissed his nose and his chin, painted a wet line down his neck, bit his nipples, licked downward. "Where's the lube?" he asked huskily.

"In that drawer," Mulder, said, indicating the end table. Krycek rose and got it, lubed his left hand. He knelt over Mulder and took him in his mouth, licking first the very tip of his cock then further down the shaft, then up, then he swallowed him, rubbing his throat against the head, lips and tongue sucking him, as hard as he could.

"Alex!" gasped Mulder. "That's so good!"

Krycek inserted a wet forefinger, and Mulder moaned. Then he pushed in a second finger, then a third; finally he slid his whole hand in, fucking Mulder with it; and Mulder cried out with pleasure. He knew he wasn't going to last long, and he didn't; he came with a yelp, shooting hot liquid down Krycek's throat. Krycek swallowed and licked him off. "Taste yourself," he said, kissing Mulder deeply.

"Sit up," said Mulder. Kneeling between Krycek's legs, he stroked his cock and sucked it, sucked it. Then he lubed his hand. "Now I'm gonna try it," he said, first sliding one finger, then two, then three fingers, then his whole hand up the groaning Krycek.

"That's right," gasped Krycek. "Oh, God, that's good!"

Mulder's mouth and tongue worked wonders on Krycek. He went from hard to hardest and then he came, moaning, shuddering with pleasure and need, spurting into Mulder's mouth. Mulder cleaned him off. "Taste?" he asked.

"Oh, you know it!"

"Alex, I love you so much."

"And I you."

"Alex, do you have to go back soon?"

"Probably," said Krycek, his brow furrowing slightly. "It's such a crapshoot, you know? If he were to wake up and find me gone, he'd look here first, and I don't like putting you in any more danger than I have to," he said, kissing Mulder. "Do you have anything to eat, Mulder?"

"Look in the fridge!"

"Well, there's absolutely nothing here but some old OJ and some sunflower seeds."

"I usually eat over at Scully's," Mulder said, by way of explanation.

"By the way, let's not talk too loudly," Krycek said, pointing upstairs. "Little snitch-bitch is likely to hear us, then it'll be my ass, at least."

There was a loud knock at the door. Krycek dove under Mulder's bed and Mulder scrambled frantically to pull on his pajama bottoms. 

"It's me!" called Scully. "Brought some food, Mulder!"

He threw open the door, deeply relieved. She stood in the doorway, looking most curiously at the black leather jacket on the chair. "That's not your jacket, Mulder," she said softly. "Who've you got in here?"

"It's Alex!" he hissed. He took Krycek his clothes and while he was dressing spoke with Scully.

"I couldn't sleep very well; I was so hungry, so I made a bunch of chocolate chip cookies, and I was inviting you over. Now you're both invited."

"Thanks, Scully, I'll take you up on your offer."

They sat at the kitchen table, eating cookies and drinking milk. "Scully's pregnant, Alex; what do you think about that?"

"I think it's wonderful!" he smiled. "Gonna name it 'Fox'?" he asked, winking.

"Yes, if it's a boy. How'd you guess?"

"It goes without saying!"

"Alex, when's the last time you saw a doctor?"

"I dunno...oh, a couple weeks ago."

"Not since you've started using?"

He bent his head, deeply shamed. "I feel so bad about that!"

"You needn't. It is so entirely not your fault," she said softly. "Go into the living room and lie down on the couch. I just want to do a really quick exam."

"OK," he said, lying down.

"Just taking your blood pressure...it's a little low, that's to be expected. How long ago did you use, and do you have any idea of the quantity?"

"Um, several hours ago, and God knows how much they use."

"OK. Your pulse is strong. Which arm?"

"Both."

"Take off your sweater. OK, someone's been doing a very nice job, and using sterile methods. No infection," she said, looking at the neat row of tracks.

"I'll kill him!" Mulder said in a low voice. 

Scully glanced up at him. "Have you seen Alex's back? Lie on your stomach, Alex." Mulder gasped and looked away. "These wounds are healing very well and very quickly. The sutures should come out in a couple days. Who did the suturing?"

"Oh, Bill."

"Runningwater?" she asked. "Don't tell me he's also the one who's been injecting you?"

"Yeah, but don't get mad at him. He's under orders to do it."

She looked at him in astonishment. "And he just does it? Just like that? What's wrong with the man?"

"Divided loyalties, I guess."

"Divided loyalties? He's got no loyalty to you at all! Oh, Sharon would be very unhappy with him! Well, anyway, now I'm palpating your liver, Alex, do you drink a lot?...it feels normal."

"I do drink a lot," he admitted.

"Well, you look OK. My advice to you would be to refuse the heroin, go through withdrawal; it's unpleasant but it won't kill you."

"Oh, I can't refuse it. I don't have a choice in the matter."

She took his face in his hands. "You poor man," she said softly. "You really don't. Now, you're trembling, Alex."

"Starting to go through withdrawal," he said, "I imagine."

"You'd better go on home."

"I don't want to."

"It's 3 AM, Alex. What time does the old man get up?"

"Any and all times, mostly around 4:30, five."

She nodded. "No use risking it. You take care, Alex," and she hugged him.

He pulled on his leather jacket. "Can you drive?" Mulder asked.

"Of course. I'm not high, Mulder, I'm in a normal mood. Oh, I wanted to tell you guys something. Earlier this evening, I picked up a computer chip-thingie that had been left on the table, and the Old Man got very, very spooked."

"A computer chip," said Scully thoughtfully. "Well, that's pretty generic."

"I wonder," said Mulder. "I just wonder. I hate to see you go, Alex! We hardly got to do anything!" Mulder said, reached over to Krycek, took his face and kissed him. 

"It's OK, there will be other times," Krycek said breathily.

"Going from me to him! How can you do it?"

Krycek looked down.

"Don't look sad, Alex!" Mulder kissed him again. "Hey, want to go make out in the hall again?"

"I heard that," said Scully, chewing a cookie. "I'd offer to give you a bunch of cookies to take with you, but someone will wonder where they came from."

They'd almost made it out the door by the time Mulder grabbed Krycek and spun him against the wall. "Not so fast," he said, burying his face in Krycek's hair, nipping the back of his neck. Reaching around, he unzipped Krycek and pulled his jeans and shorts down, then unzipped himself and took out his cock, which he lodged against the tight ring then shoved it home. Krycek moaned. Mulder grasped Krycek's cock and stroked it till Krycek thought he'd go out of his mind. He came, yelling Mulder's name, and then Mulder climaxed, screaming Krycek's name.

"Think you've woken up the whole neighborhood, or just 90% of it? Don't forget about our domestic spy!" Scully said critically, when they'd finished. "You guys do things that look like they'd hurt." She drained a glass of milk.

Mulder smirked, and kissed and kissed Krycek, who pulled up his pants and fastened them. "Alex, come back soon!" he said.

"Oh, I promise I will! You might want to pull up your pants, Mulder," Krycek said.

"He can leave 'em down," said Scully.

At 3:15 in the morning Mahdib Abdul awoke suddenly and opened her eyes. It seemed she'd heard a yell... she got out of bed, put her robe on and looked outside her door. A car pulled away from the curb. She squinted without her contacts. Was that a Ferrari? No, she decided, a Lamborghini.

Krycek could not go to bed immediately upon arrival at the Portola Valley house, but had to watch a video to try to soothe himself. At some point he began to seriously experience symptoms of withdrawal from the drug, and when Bill Runningwater found him at 5, he was curled up on the couch in a ball of misery, his nose running, sweating so hard his hair was damp and stringy, and shaking so badly he could hardly talk.

"Alexei, why are you up so early? What's the matter?"

"I-I c-c-couldn't sl-sleep."

"Let me get you something for that." The Indian left the room and returned with the syringe, which Krycek had no trouble accepting this time. Soon he began to feel better.

"Did you go out last night?"

"Um," said Krycek, "officially no, and don't tell him I did! Hey, can't you fix me up with some of that stuff to take with me, you know, to go?"

Bill shook his head. "No can do. That's the idea, Alex, that you'll always be back within a few hours."

"I could get another connection."

"Not like this. This drug is pure, it is safe and you always know what you're getting. And you know that. Now, let's get you into the shower and cleaned up. It won't do for you to go back to bed smelling like another man, will it?"

Krycek was joined in the shower by the Old Man. "Want me to suck you off?" he asked, with a beautiful smile. He wanted, and he got, and he remarked that it was a wonderful way to start the day.

"I have to be out pretty much all day, Alex," the man said, dressing. "Go for a drive or play with your horses, just be available for me when I get back. Make sure you get your medicine on time. I heard you didn't last night, and you started to go through withdrawal. It isn't very pleasant, is it?"

"No," whispered Krycek, "it isn't."

"Those sutures are coming out today, Alexei," remarked Bill Runningwater, serving breakfast. "Then you'll be good as new!"

Krycek played with his eggs, got up and fixed himself a Mimosa. "Get me a cup of coffee, will you, Alex?" The man was buried in his Wall Street Journal.

"How much money do you have, anyway?" Krycek asked, handing him the coffee.

The Smoking Man looked up from his paper, reached for his cigarette. "I can't believe you asked me that!"

"It's a lot, isn't it, though?" Krycek asked.

The man took a drag on his Morley. "You are impertinent. I will tell you that it's greater than the GNP of many small developing nations."

Krycek blinked, touched the emerald pendant he wore.

"Yes, that emerald was appraised at $2.5 million. That should tell you something."

"My God," Krycek breathed.

"You're on schedule for 9 AM, Alexei," Bill Runningwater said, bringing a bowl of fruit to the table. "Grapefruit, Boss?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Schedule for what? Oh..." said Krycek. "Could I have it earlier?"

The CSM nodded. "You may. Get it for him, Bill."

Runningwater scowled at him. "Don't make that ugly face at me, Bill," said the man, not looking up from his paper, "just get it."

"I won't. He's not sick, he doesn't need it."

The paper rattled as it was folded up, and the cigarette went back to the ashtray. "You will get him his shot!" he said firmly.

"No, I won't!"

Krycek watched this interchange with great interest. The Smoking Man, who had six inches of height on the Navajo, stood up and grabbed his collar. "What did you say to me?"

"I SAID I WON'T DO IT!"

The man looked at him furiously but let him go. "Come to the bedroom, Alex, I'll get you your shot," he said, gesturing to Krycek.

Krycek was surprised he knew how to administer the injection, which he did as skillfully as Runningwater had. "You know, Alex, you can have as much of this as you want. If it makes you feel good, it makes me feel good."

Krycek lay back on the bed, euphoria rushing through him, lips parted and green eyes at half-mast. The Smoking Man looked at him then pushed the door shut, undoing his belt. "Take your jeans off and put a pillow under your hips, Alexei."

They went through the hot shower water again. "Actually, I think I prefer your hair like this," the man said. Krycek was standing face-up to the water, letting it run over his eyelids, into and out of his mouth, pour through his hair.

"Long? Loose?" Krycek asked.

"Both."

"Ah. So where are you going today?"

"Out, my nosy little friend."

"You never tell me. I'm a spy; I could find out, you know."

"Correction. You were a spy. Now you're my pet, my personal Ratboy."

"Oh," said Alex Krycek.

************************************************************************

The group of men, mostly older gentlemen, met in the penthouse conference room in the University Bank building in downtown Palo Alto. Coffee drinks were served, along with French pastries from a nearby bakery/deli. As usual, Spender was late, running on his own time, calling for an ashtray and seating himself at the head of the table.

"Gentlemen," he said, lighting a cigarette, "One of our scientists, Dr. Walker, who is sitting right there," he indicated a young black man with wire-rims seated to his right, "developed over the last several months a specialized computer chip. Here it is," he said, holding it up. Everyone strained to see it. It was a tiny microprocessor, about 1 centimeter square. "I'll pass it around," he said, and passed it to his left.

Mahdib entered the room. "You're late," the CSM said, without looking up. "I don't want to hear any excuses. One more time, and you're off the case. Now, Dr. Walker, will you please explain what this chip does?"

The scientist cleared his throat. "Well, essentially, plug one of these babies into the motherboard of any PC or Mac, and when the user turns on the computer it sucks his consciousness out of his body into the computer, where it is held captive."

"My God, man!" said the Well-Manicured Man. "How can it possibly do that?"

"Any computer produces an electrical field. This chip contains a miniature accelerator, which knocks the positrons off atoms. This causes a very powerful positively-charged field to be created. The field reacts with the negatively-charged impulses in the brain, drawing them out. The computer is able to analyze the impulses and translate them into thought patterns, which are then accessible when a program I've developed is installed. It isn't perfect, but can capture cognition and emotion with fairly good fidelity."

"And the purpose of this?" asked the First Elder.

"Is the door secure?" asked Walker anxiously. 

"It should be locked. Let me check," said the CSM.

"Well, we propose to make a deal with the aliens. We use the chip to subdue a good portion of the human race, and we, the developers of this plan and our families, remain safe."

"Has anyone been in contact with the aliens?" asked the WMM.

The CSM nodded. "We think so; some scientists at Stanford seem to have developed amazing technologies."

"Like, for example, your...your..."

"Like Alex Krycek's arm? Yes, exactly."

"Well, have they talked to anyone?"

"No one; they seem to be running scared. I haven't been able to get anything out of them. I may have to use more effective methods," he said thoughtfully. "I hate to do it, because they are scientists and could prove extremely valuable to our cause." He picked up his cigarette lying unattended in the ashtray, and took a drag.

"I have to contact the aliens myself," he said after a pause. "I'm sorry, but I don't trust anyone else to do it. Now Mahdib, do you have a report on the Emerson household?"

"So far, I've been unsuccessful. When they go out, I pick the locks and plant some bugs. When they return, they look for them and find them all. Therefore, I don't have any conversations to report. Late last night I remember a red Italian car pulling away from the curb. I thought it was a Ferrari," and the CSM started, "but then I observed more closely, and it was a Lamborghini."

"Are you sure?" asked the CSM.

She nodded. "Yes, I am."

"Who drives a Ferrari?" asked the WMM, picking up his latte.

"Alex Krycek," said the CSM, quietly.

"Ooooh," said the WMM.

"How many people are we going to be ki-subduing with this method?" asked the First Elder.

"Many millions," said the CSM. "probably on the order of 200 million."

"For God's sake, man!" exclaimed the WMM, putting his coffee down. "That's atrocious! It's genocide! It's murder on the largest scale in the history of mankind!"

The CSM looked at him. "You don't have to like it."

"I like it," said the Second Elder. "But how are we going to control who gets the modified computers?"

"People we don't like can be easily eliminated. Heads of state, etc. Beyond that, we're going to ship them to specific destinations, but no, essentially we cannot control who gets which computers. It's the luck of the draw."

The people in the room digested this information.

"What's my role in all this?" asked Mahdib.

"I told you that you were to investigate, that is, terminate, all the UFO witnesses, and you'll be working pretty closely with me."

"OK," she said.

************************************************************************

Mahdib turned into the driveway of 39 Alpine Road, noting that the red Ferrari was there, and wondering about it. The door was answered by Bill Runningwater, who smiled and graciously took her coat. The Old Man was sitting on the couch with Alex Krycek, and his back was to Mahdib. She approached and saw that he was shooting Alex up. He was completely shameless, this man. He'd gotten Alex on heroin and he didn't care who knew it.

"Sit down, Mahdib," the man said without looking up. "I'll be right with you." She sat and watched the transformation in Alex, from frightened and anxious man to dopey and euphoric one.

"Hi, Mahdib," Krycek said blandly. "How's it hanging?"

Well, that was offensive. "Fine," she said. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel fuckin' great!" he said.

"Why don't you go play your piano and sing, Alex?" the Smoking Man asked, lighting a cigarette.

"OK," Krycek said. He walked into the den, plunked himself down at the piano and began accompanying himself on Doors songs, which he knew by heart. "Realms of bliss, realms of light, some are born to sweet delight, some are born to the endless night. End of the night..." he sang, and then his beautiful voice broke, and he wept.

"Alex, are you OK?" asked Bill Runningwater.

"Yeah, it's just a very intense song. 'Born to the endless night,' that's me."

"I'm sorry you feel that way. I wish we could get you psychological counseling, but we can't, due to the secrecy factor, around this project and so on."

"What the hell is this project? What kind of deal are they cutting with the aliens this time? And what did that microprocessor have to do with it?"

Runningwater shook his head. "I don't know the full story, and I can't tell you anything anyway. That's not your job here, Alexei."

Alex rolled his eyes. "Education, master's degree from University of Pennsylvania. Job description: sometime assassin, ornament, junkie boy-toy, personal whore."

"Alex! You don't have to think of it that way! You are an intelligent companion."

"Yes, he does like to fuck my brain."

"Alex, be reasonable."

"I am being reasonable. I'm being reasonable, truthful and honest." Krycek rose from the piano bench, stretched and went into the living room. "You bitch," he said to the smiling Mahdib. The smile faltered slightly. "Alex, please return to what you were doing," said the Smoking Man.

"Not until I tell this bitch a few things. I never loved you, Mahdib. I was gay even in college. I slept around a lot on you, always with men because I have always preferred them. I was never attracted to you. I just dated you to appear conventional."

"Alex, enough!" cried the Smoking Man.

The Persian woman looked and looked at Krycek and burst into tears.

"Mahdib, I can't use you if you're so fragile and emotional," the CSM said.

"I'm only emotional around Alex! I love him!" she wailed. "I want him."

"Well, you're not getting him," the Smoking Man remarked. "Ever. Come here, Alex."

Krycek rose from his seat and came over to sit leaning against the man, both arms around him, nibbling the back of his neck. "Do you see?" the man asked, lighting a cigarette.

"Alex is gay. We make love several times a day, and he loves it. He will never change. Right, my love?"

"Right!" said Krycek, kissing him, then looking at the girl.

This prompted fresh tears from Mahdib. The man was even more shameless than she had supposed, so open about his relationship with Alex that she was stunned past hurt.

"Mahdib," he said, "why don't you step outside for a moment? Get some fresh air. Do you like horses? Alex has some very fine blooded animals in the paddocks, including a world champion racehorse. Go take a look at them!"

Sniffling, she put on her jacket and walked outside to look at the horses. One palomino gelding came up to the fence and put his nose through to be stroked. "That's Goldie," the Old Man remarked, walking up behind her. "Champion racers on both sides of his pedigree, Arab and Quarter Horse. But look at that big bay stallion!" Guardian came trotting up, long legs swinging gracefully, pretty face alight with curiosity. She put out her hand to the Thoroughbred and then felt a gun in the back of her head.

"Believe me, I'm sorry, Mahdib," the man said quietly, "but you are so emotional I can't use you, and you know too much for me to let you go," and he squeezed the trigger, splattering blood and brains all over the fence. He pulled out his cell phone. "Bruno," he said, "come at once. There's been an accident."

************************************************************************

"Wonder where Mahdib is, anyway?" Scully asked White, sipping her cappuccino.

He shrugged. "I don't know and I don't care. Just as long as she leaves us alone."

"I think she may be, you know."

"May be what?" he asked, eating the last of the pumpkin pie.

"Hey, I wanted that pie," she said. 

"May be leaving us alone."

"Oh," said Scully. "OH."

The call from Skinner came at around 1:30. "Your little live-in spy is no longer," he said. "She bit the big one at the end of a bullet. Same style, back of the head."

"Ah," said Scully, "but why would he kill his own operative?"

"Who knows? She was awfully sweet on Alex Krycek, and that may have had something to do with it. Jealousy, or something."

"Or something," Scully said. "Well, I'll tell Mulder right away. He'll be so happy to hear about it! Now Alex can come and go unimpeded."

"Um, harrum," said Skinner, clearing his throat. "Well, not entirely. He's still got the Smoking Man to deal with. And the guy may well hire another spook to look in on our domestic activities. Hey, there was another sighting last night. I'm sorry to wait so long to tell you, but it just crossed my desk about 20 seconds ago."

"Which means that the CSM would already have had a crack at him or her."

"You'd think so. But this report didn't come from Kersh. It came from one of our field people. It was seen roughly over Stanford University. Hey, Scully, I've been wondering about something for a while now."

"Yes?"

"Where'd the technology for Krycek's arm come from?"

"Oh." She said, stunned. "Oh, my God!"

"Yeah, it almost doesn't bear thinking about, does it?"

"He must have been in contact with the aliens before any official UFO sightings, during the whole good versus evil fight we had in Santa Cruz," she said slowly. "That is almost beyond belief!"

"Yes, I suppose he did. No one seems to know what kind of deal he cut with them this time."

"Mulder says he has a hunch it is truly terrible, much worse than the previous one," she said anxiously.

"Well, I wouldn't put it past him," said Skinner.

"A.D., Mulder is really having a rough time. Part of it has to do with Alex, of course, but a lot has to do with the inherent difficulty of this case. He is so afraid we will lose, and so am I, though I can't tell him that."

"It's a tough one," Skinner agreed. "It's the toughest we've ever had. On the previous case, we had Sharon Green, with all her supernatural powers. Now it's just us. But Agent Scully, we'll make it. Somehow or other, we will. It's just a feeling, like Mulder's hunch."

"OK," she said. "I'll trust you. What else can I do? Quit?"

"You can tender your resignation if you want, but somehow I doubt you'll do it."

"I don't know. Not at this time, anyway. Did you hear that I'm pregnant, sir?"

"No, I didn't! I'm so happy for you both. Er...Agent White is the father, isn't he?"

"Sir!" she said indignantly. "Of course he is! Who else would be?"

"Well, you never know," he said lamely. "But the kid will be named Fox, right?"

"If he's a boy, yes. How did you know?"

He chuckled. "Doesn't take a psychic to figure that one out."

************************************************************************

The Lone Gunmen's flight was late, very late, and they had to make alternate arrangements with the limo company; so they arrived at the Emerson house at 3:30 in the afternoon. Mulder anxiously awaited their arrival, calling the airline several times to ensure there hadn't been a crash or something. Finally, watching from the bench outside his door, worriedly eating sunflower seeds, he saw the limo pull up. "Guys!" he called. "So good to see you!" He walked to the limousine, hugged all three of them, and picked up several bags. "Apartments C and D will be yours," he said. "Isn't this nice? This old converted Victorian?"

They agreed it was and piled their bags in their new apartments. Langly and Frohike were to share the two-bedroom apartment, and Byers had the studio to himself.

"See, furnished and everything?" Mulder said. "We're having dinner at the Scully/White apartment. Hope you like your place, Byers. It was the guesthouse and as you can see it's separate from the main house."

"Oh, anything would be fine," said the weary Byers. "That was a long flight."

With the Gunmen in the process of settling in, Scully knocked on each door and handed them wrapped gifts. "Merry Christmas!" she said. "Dinner at four. Hope you like pot roast and potatoes?"

"When did you learn to cook, Scully?" Langly asked with interest.

She laughed. "Dave taught me a lot. I've just been eating a lot lately, and so...and so, I cook a lot! Oh, I'm pregnant, guys! I think it's a boy."

"Wow, congratulations!" Frohike said, once he'd recovered. "Are you going to name him Fox, then?"

"How come everyone knows that?" she asked.

"It's logical," said Langly, unwrapping a grape sucker. "A) You've been gone on Mulder for a long time; B) Mulder is, um, unlikely to have any offspring; therefore, C) You want to have him to 'live on' in your own son."

She shook her head. "You're amazing!"

During dinner they caught each other up. Byers said, "Our project with Hewlett-Packard paid very well, and we invested wisely, and so we are..."

"RICH!" yelled Langly, enthusiastically eating candied yams.

"Well, we're well-off," amended Byers.

"Hell, we're rich," said Frohike. "Really wealthy. Not like some, but according to our standards, we are. We never have to work again," he said, drinking diet Coke.

"Speaking of money," Mulder said, "I did clear it with Skinner; you'll be getting a nice stipend."

"How'd you work that, with Kersh breathing down his neck?" asked Scully. "Dave, pass the pot roast please."

"How many servings have you had, Dana?"

"Give me a break, I'm eating for two. You were saying, Mulder?"

"I wasn't. He went right over Kersh's head."

"That was a neat trick!" said White, sipping wine.

"It was really nice of you three to come out!" beamed Scully. "We'll really be able to use your help! Mulder, did you hear, we've got another sighting. Near Stanford."

"No, I hadn't heard. We should be out there now!" he said, rising from the dinner table. "We've still got the Jeep, right? Let's all pile into it. Now. Remember," he said, jabbing his finger west, "HE lives right over there!"

"Kersh hasn't heard about this sighting," she said. "That's why I thought we could take our time."

"That could have been a fatal mistake, Scully. Never let your guard down around the Smoking Man! He's probably out there now, shooting whomever."

"Allison Stein, student," said Scully. "Let's go!"

They managed to all squeeze into the Jeep and drove to the off-campus student housing in College Terrace. They found Ms. Stein at home, and rather intimidated by the visit. "FBI?" she asked quaveringly. "Have I done something wrong?"

Scully laughed. "Not at all! We just want to know about your experiences with the UFO you saw last night."

"Well, then, everyone have a seat," the girl said. "Drinks, anyone?" they all shook their heads. "OK, I was hiking around Foothill Expressway near Los Altos last night around 12 midnight, when I saw...these lights, red and blue lights primarily, flashing in patterns. They seemed to ...there seemed to be a spacecraft, I would say, of some sort, maybe roughly saucer-shaped but not cheesy-looking, you know, that hovered overhead then darted away."

"Did you lose time?" asked Scully.

"Lose time? You mean, was there a gap in my remembrance?" the girl considered. "You know, there was about an hour and a half that I couldn't account for."

"I have to check you for implants," said Scully, donning rubber gloves. "Can you please lie on the couch?" She went quickly over the girl. "No evidence of implants," she said, shaking her head. 

"Do you have any memory of the beings in the craft?" Mulder asked.

"I...I don't think I contacted any of them. I do remember a man, you know, a human, standing near me and approaching me, afterward, after the craft left."

"What'd he look like?" asked Mulder, Scully and White together.

"Look like? It was pitch-dark, remember? I'd say he was quite tall and older, maybe in his sixties?"

"Was he smoking?" asked Mulder sardonically.

"Yes, yes, he was," the girl said, looking at him, puzzled. "How'd you know?"

************************************************************************

Alex Krycek and Bill Runningwater both heard the muffled "pop" of the silenced gunshot. "Hope that wasn't one of my horses," remarked Krycek.

"That was cold, Alexei!" Runningwater said, looking at him in horror. "You know who that was! Don't go out there!" he called, but Krycek had already reached the side door. 

"Whew!" Krycek said, "I guess she's in the hot place now! Nice job, if I say so myself!"

The Smoking Man looked up. "You didn't see that, and you won't say anything."

"Well, like, who the fuck would I tell?"

"I can only imagine whom you'd tell, and I'd rather not think about it. Get back inside, Alex."

Krycek ducked inside the house. "It's gross," he told Runningwater with some satisfaction. "Globs of brain all over the fence, the ground, her blouse."

"Alexei, since when have you become so bloodthirsty?"

"I hated the bitch, ever since what she did to me and Mulder. And anyway, you're forgetting how I killed that Sparrowhawk!"

"How did you kill him? With a stiletto, right?"

"Yeah, but not until I dissected most of his left arm," Krycek said grimly.

Runningwater just looked at him and shook his head. "You're too much, Alexei," he finally said, ruffling Krycek's hair.

The CSM came back into the house. "I've got to go out," he said tersely. "Alex is due for another shot in a couple of hours, but if he asks sooner, give it to him."

************************************************************************

Allison Stein opened the door to the same man she'd seen last night. He was very tall and broad-shouldered, and filled most of the doorway. "May I come in?" he asked. He was accompanied by two big men wearing suits and sunglasses.

"Sure," she said, and gave way. "Have a seat?"

They remained standing. The man lit a cigarette.

"Hey, Stanford is non-smoking!" she protested. 

"What did you tell the FBI?" he asked bluntly.

"I told them about the lights, the craft, the hovering and the darting away. I told them about the lost time, then about you."

He started. "Did you?" he took a drag.

"Hey, what is this, anyway?" she asked, scared and beginning to be angry. "Who are you?"

"It's not important," he said. "You have a lovely view out your front window. Take a look!"

"What?" she asked. "What do you mean?"

"Turn around," he said, and suddenly a gun was in his hand.

"You...You're gonna kill me, aren't you?" she asked in wonder and horror.

"Yes, I am," the man said, drowning his cigarette in a coffee cup. "Do you want me to blow your face off?"

"HELP!" she screamed. "MURDER! FIRE! HEL-" and fell as the bullet, blasted from under her chin, tore threw her throat and her brain and rendered her forever silent. The man removed the silencer and holstered the Ruger. 

"Clean this up," he said casually.

"Had a good day's work, huh?" asked Alex Krycek, upon the Smoking Man's return.

"You are getting very lippy, Alexei. Bill, give him a shot."

"He's not due for one."

"Give him one anyway."

"No."

The Old Man sighed. "I'll do it myself. Alex, go and sit on the bed and I'll be right with you."

Krycek obediently held out his arm for the needle. "How do you feel?" the man asked him, a moment later.

"Great!"

"Good! Please remove your clothing and bend over the bed for me... Now how do you feel?" he asked a few minutes later.

"Oh, God," said Alex Krycek.

"Like me to make love to you? Like me to fuck you?"

"Oh, yes!" Krycek gasped out.

"Say it!"

"I love you to make love to me! I love you to fuck me! And I'm gonna come!" he gasped, went rigid and spurted gobs of hot liquid over the man's hand and the sheets. The older man, close behind him, wrapped his arms around Krycek and came deep inside him.

"That was great, Alex," the man said, lying back on the bed and lighting a cigarette.

"What happens to my veins?" Krycek asked suddenly.

"Hm?"

"What happens to my veins? Don't junkies get bad veins and run out of them and all that?"

The man looked at him. "That won't happen," he said quietly. "We're being very careful with the injections. You don't have to worry; we're taking care of you. Don't you know yet how dear you are to both of us?"

Krycek scratched his chin thoughtfully. "OK," he said.

"I see Bill took the sutures out. Your back looks good, Alexei. Hardly any scarring, and we can get rid of that with laser surgery."

Krycek lay back on the bed and embraced the man, mashing his face against his chest. "You smell good," he said.

************************************************************************

Mulder waited up late, hoping against hope for a visit from Krycek. He finally retired at 1 in the morning, watching TV under several blankets on the couch. The heater still wasn't working properly. He thought about their witnesses, and wondered why Skinner wasn't protecting them at all. Kersh, no doubt, he thought bitterly. It seemed that they were fighting a losing battle with the enemy.

At 2:00 there was a simultaneous knock, doorbell ring and shout, "MULDER!" He got up and joyously answered the door. 

"Hey, Alex!" he cried. "How are you?"

"Glad to see you," was the response. Krycek backed him into the room and onto the couch, kissing him the whole way. "I'm gonna fuck you, Mulder," he said. "And that's a fact." He pulled Mulder's pajama bottoms down, skinned out of his jeans, lubed his cock and quickly mounted him. Mulder gasped. "Oh my God, Alex!" he said. "That feels so good!"

"Like me in you? Hm?"

"Oh fuck yeah, oh baby! Touch me!"

Krycek stroked and pumped Mulder's cock in time to his thrusts. Mulder gasped and moaned his way to an orgasm, coming in great shuddering spasms, coming all over Krycek's hand and the couch. Then Krycek, looking into Mulder's turquoise-green eyes, thrust deeply and came, shooting hot liquid into Mulder's heat.

They lay together in a hard embrace, touching, tasting, caressing. "Oh, Mulder, I love you so much!" said Krycek.

"I love you so much too. It's a gray world without you, Alex! Hey, Alex?"

"What?"

"How big is he?"

"Six foot six, 185 pounds. Why?"

Mulder grimaced. "You know what I mean. How big is he?"

Krycek turned his face into the seat cushion. "Big," he said, and his response was muffled.

"Oho! So!" Mulder said. "How big?"

"Very," said Krycek.

Mulder felt fiercely jealous. "Not as big as me?"

"No, Mulder, no one is as big as you," he said reassuringly. "But where do you think you got it from?"

"Can we fuck again?" asked Mulder hopefully.

"Darling, we can fuck again and again," said Krycek. His cock instantly became hard again, and he noticed Mulder's was too. "Fuck me," he said. "On my back. IF," he said anxiously, "you don't mind that I've been with him."

Mulder shook his head. "No, I don't mind," he said. "I just wanna love you so bad." He shoved a seat cushion under Krycek's hips and lubed his cock. "Let's see if you need to be widened," he said, sliding a finger up Krycek, who moaned. He lubed two more fingers and slid them up Krycek. 

"Why don't you try your whole hand?" asked Krycek.

Mulder slowly, cautiously put his hand up his lover, who groaned. "That's so good, Mulder, I can't believe how good that is! Now fuck me with your cock!"

Mulder withdrew his hand and mounted Krycek, who moaned. "I love you, I love you," he said over and over, arched his back and came without being stroked, spurting all over his belly. Mulder pumped and pumped and came in a screaming rush, calling Krycek's name.

"That was great!" said Mulder. "Alex, I love you so much!"

"I love you too, Mulder! Don't leave me yet. Stay inside me till you slip out."

They stayed locked together for a moment. "I'm gonna get hard again," Mulder said. "I wanna fuck again."

Krycek smiled. "I need to get back."

"Why?"

"You know why. He'll miss me and then there'll be hell to pay."

"Well, then, let me kiss you and molest you all the way to your car."

"It's a deal." They dressed and locked in an exploratory kiss, tongues meeting and searching. Krycek put his hand down Mulder's pajama bottoms and Mulder slid his hand down Krycek's jeans. Mulder broke away long enough to throw on a coat, and they kissed and stroked all the way to the car, as promised. Krycek came first, then Mulder.

"OK," said Krycek, "time to get back." He kissed Mulder one last time then unlocked his car. "Later, Mulder," he called.

"Later, Alex! Thanks so much for coming over! I love you!"

"I love you too, Mulder! Bye!"

The Ferrari pulled away from the curb and blasted away.

Mulder stood looking forlornly after it.

Krycek drove home, showered and slipped into the arms of the Smoking Man. He missed his shot, and shivered and sweated almost unbearably till the man woke up around 5. "What's the matter, Alex?" he asked. "Are you ill?"

"N-no," said Krycek, his teeth chattering.

"Oh, you need your shot. I'll get it for you." He threw on a robe and left, returning with a syringe. "This is a good heavy dose, Alex. You'll feel better momentarily."

"Th-thank you," said Krycek, gratefully, and he did feel better, much better, in fact he felt so good that he was in love with the whole world. He felt expansive. He ran into the den and began playing and singing. He picked out chords for "How Soon is Now," and raised his voice in song. Then he began composing.

"What's that?" asked the Smoking Man. Bill Runningwater, having been awakened by all the ruckus, poked his head in the den.

"Oh, it's a gay love song," Krycek said carelessly. "Want me to sing it?"

"Yes!" they chorused. "I love you, why do you hurt me? I love you, please don't desert me. You are the cool water in the parched and forsaken desert of my soul. You are the thread of life woven through the matrix that has made me whole. When you drive into me I know God. When you thrive in me I know God. When I call you, do you hear me? When I call you, are you near me?...That's all I have written so far," he said.

"That's beautiful!" said the Smoking Man. "What talent you have! Is it written for anyone in particular?"

"Well, kind of," said Krycek. "It's kind of for you, you know. And it's kind of generic. Just a song. Let me show you my artwork!" He motioned them into the gym room, where he'd set up an easel. "Look!"

"Wow!" said Bill Runningwater. "Very powerful!" It was a self-portrait, Krycek naked to the waist, in chains, a defiant look on his face, beautifully executed. 

"You're very ambivalent," said the Old Man, slowly.

Krycek nodded. "Yes. Do you not see? It's what our relationship is all about. Love and hate. I sang "Tainted Love" for you, right? This is a complex thing." Not like Mulder and me, he thought. That is simple: raging hormones, racing pulse, insanely, intensely, vividly, madly, screamingly in love, forever.

When Scully woke up at 6 she immediately had to heave into the toilet. "What's wrong, Sweetheart?" White asked her sleepily.

"Morning sickness," she said placidly.

"When are you having the sonogram?"

"Tomorrow, if I can find the time. I'll be glad to find out the sex of the baby."

"Yeah, me too. I'm voting for a boy."

"You would!" she grinned. "I'm sort of hoping for a girl, to replace the daughter I lost. But then again, I'd like a boy so I can name him after Mulder."

"You know, that's so sweet of you, Dana! You don't have to do that!"

"I know," she said, rolling over on her stomach. "But I'd like to. It would tickle him so much. Doesn't look like he's gonna have any kids the way he's going, and anyway I don't want him to, because of you-know-why."

"Interesting, the way that man comes into every blessed conversation we have," he mused. "We can't talk without him poisoning every word."

"Wow!" said Scully. "What an interesting, and poetic, and sad way to put it. OK, let's not talk about him, starting Right Now. I made cookies again. They're in the kitchen. I'll get 'em, if you'd like some."

"Sure, if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind," she said, and went out to the kitchen, returning with a plateful of cookies. "I made up another plate for Mulder. I'll go over there now."

"Scully, it's only 6."

"He's got to get up sometime," she said determinedly, and took the cookies to Mulder. "MULDER!" she shouted, banging on his door. When he didn't answer she let herself in. He was sleeping peacefully on the couch under a couple of blankets. He didn't look clothed under those blankets, and she found herself wishing he'd jump up, and she'd see him in all his naked glory. "Mulder," she said, and he woke up gradually, yawning, stretching and then looking in her direction. 

"Oh, hi, Scully. What're you doing?"

"I brought you some cookies. Plus I wanted to see how you were doing. Had another encounter with your little nocturnal visitor?"

"Uh-huh," he said.

"Boy, are you guys taking a terrible risk. I guess you consider it worth the risk."

"I guess we do!" he said mildly. "We're in love."

"Yes," she nodded, absentmindedly taking a cookie, "you are. In fact, you guys are more in love than any couple I've ever seen."

Mulder smiled. "Hey, hand me my shorts over there, will you, Scully?" He swung to a seated position and threw back the blankets and indeed, she got to see him in all his beautiful nakedness.

"My God," she breathed. "Mulder, you're fantastic!"

"It's big, isn't it?" he said smugly. "The biggest anyone has ever seen. Eleven-plus inches erect."

"Hey Mulder," she said hopefully, "want to-never mind!" she said, giving herself a little shake. What am I doing? She asked herself.

"Well, Scully, I'd be glad to if my sexual orientation weren't such that I can't do it with girls any more. Actually, though," he said thoughtfully, looking at her, "I could do you a favor, if you'd like."

"Oh, God," said Scully, "you're kidding, right?" She clutched her cookie so hard that it crumbled and fell to the floor.

"Nope, not kidding. C'mere!" he said, reaching for her.

"Aaaak!" she cried, and bolted out the door.

Mulder chuckled a long time over this. Poor Scully, he shouldn't have teased her. There was no way he could get it up for a woman, even a beautiful one like her.

"So you woke him up?" asked White. 

"Mm-m" she said, climbing back into bed. She was flushed and breathing hard. 

"Is it hot over there? The heat still doesn't work well over here, and I tweaked it yesterday."

"It's hot," she said.

************************************************************************

The call came at 7. Scully, making scrambled cheese-eggs, picked it up, as White was in the shower. "Scully," she said.

"A.D. Skinner. Scully, three things."

"Yes?" she said, juggling the phone and the spatula.

"First, we've got a dead witness."

"Oh, shit, not again! Why can't we protect 'em?"

"You know why!"

"Damn! How can we proceed with this investigation, the way things are going?"

"We're trying," said Skinner grimly. "Again, you don't need to autopsy this one."

"Shot?"

"Yes, point-blank. Through the throat up through the brain. High-caliber weapon."

Scully made a face at the phone. "What else?" she asked. "These eggs are done," she murmured.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing," she said, scraping the eggs onto a plate. She put the phone against her chest. "DAVE! BREAKFAST!" she called. "I'm sorry, A.D. What were you saying?"

"Well, the second point is that we've had some sightings back East. In the Pennsylvania countryside, to be exact."

"Oh, my God. Should we fly back?"

"Not just yet. I've put some agents on it, and they'll be investigating things."

"Watch out for you-know-who," she warned.

"Yes, I will. The agents have been apprised of the situation. The entire situation. Anyway, the third point is this: someone, an employee, at this company called TelCom in Mountain View, not far from you, has been found."

"Dead? Shot?" she asked, taking the bread out of the toaster. White appeared with a towel wrapped around his waist, looking a question.

"No, not dead, but in this sort of state of suspended animation. You'll have to go take a look. He's in El Camino Hospital on Grant Road in Mountain View. Do you know where that is?"

"No, but I can look at a map, as usual. Did you want to talk to Agent White?"

"No, I'll let you relay the message."

Krycek took a second shower and put in an appearance at the breakfast table. "Why's it eggs again, Bill?"

"I thought you liked eggs," was the response.

"Not every day."

"Eat 'em anyway. You don't eat enough, Alexei, and you're getting gaunt."

"I like to be gaunt."

"Take a look at yourself in the mirror sometime. You're beginning to look anorexic."

"You are too thin," said the Old Man, walking to the table. "Eat more, Alex." He sat down and picked up his Wall Street. "I have to fly East today. I don't know how long I'll be gone. You, Bill," he said, buried behind the paper, "are to make sure Alex gets his shots. I don't want any reports of withdrawal symptoms, and I want him to have as much as he wants."

"He's really addicted, and he's getting the look of a junkie," said Runningwater.

The Smoking Man looked up. "He still looks pretty, and that's all I care about."

Runningwater glared at him. "You're unreal! You're unbelievably selfish!"

"I don't care what you think of me. Just make sure he gets his shots. If I come back and find he's detoxed, I'm going to be very angry."

Runningwater looked at him sullenly. "Here's the bacon," he said, serving it.

Krycek played with his food. "I'm not hungry."

The man folded his paper and rose from the table. "I'm going to show Alex how to self-administer the injections, so I'll know that he gets them. Come, Alex."

"This is where we keep it," he said, indicating a cabinet under the sink of the fourth bathroom. "We've got a two-week supply already mixed up. Look, you put this much in a syringe - if you ever need a higher dose, give yourself two doses. You use this tube to tie yourself off, Alex, like so. Find the vein, and carefully slide the needle in. Inject the solution slowly - see?"

Krycek began to feel very high.

"You can also inhale the powder, of course, but it won't have nearly as much of an effect. Do you think you can shoot yourself up? I don't trust Bill with this. I have a feeling he'd just let you detoxify, and that would be terrible."

"I can do it," Krycek said. "Can I take some with me when I go out?"

"Bad idea. You're likely to get busted with it, then I'd have to rescue you again. Just come back to the house every few hours. Now, I'm trusting you, to do this right. Do you think you can, and you will?"

Krycek was already nodding. "Yeah," he said, "no problem."

"OK, I think I see my limo. I have to leave. Goodbye, my love," he said, kissing Krycek.

"Bye," said Krycek.

"Help me with my bags, Bill!" the man called.

As soon as he'd left, Krycek picked up the extension in the master bedroom and punched in a number. "Mulder! It's me! Get your butt over here! Um, 39 Alpine Road. Just follow it up past that grocery store, up into the hills about a mile. It's a white clapboard house on the right, very large and sprawling. You'll see horses. Just park in the driveway... Yes, he's gone back East... Oh, I suppose. He's always interfering...Yes, just come as you are!"

He put the handset down. Ah ha, fooled the Smoking Man this time, he thought.

Mulder arrived about twenty minutes later. It WAS a big house, he thought, and at first he was unsure which door to knock on. Then a grinning Krycek poked his head out of the heavy front door. "Come in, come in!" he said, gesturing.

"Hi!" Mulder said. "Wow, this is nice, Alex!"

"Wait'll you see inside!" Mulder stepped inside the foyer, had about a second to admire the oak floors and Oriental carpets before Krycek's lips met his and Krycek's arms went around him, and Krycek's crotch pushed and ground against his. 

Mulder gasped and groaned, sliding his hand down Krycek's jeans to his very hard cock. Krycek reciprocated, stroking Mulder's huge erection. "Do me, Mulder, against the wall," he breathed. "Right here!" Mulder unsnapped Krycek's jeans and pulled them down and Krycek unzipped Mulder. Mulder kissed Krycek, kissed him hard, licked his lips, nibbled them, explored the recesses of his warm mouth, licked down his throat to the top of his chest, undid the top shirt buttons, licked his chest, ripped the rest of the buttons off to lick his chest, his nipples, which he bit and sucked till they stood up.

Then he flipped Krycek against the wall. "I don't have lube," he said. "Go for it!" Krycek said hoarsely. Mulder touched and stroked Krycek's ass, placed his cock against the tight ring of muscle and shoved it in. Krycek gasped and groaned. "It's fuckin' great, Mulder!" he said. "All the way! Fuck me!"

Mulder reached around and grabbed Krycek's cock and stroked it while he fucked him. So intent were they on their passion and pleasure that they didn't see Bill Runningwater approach, eyebrows raised, with the phone. "I'm sorry, he's not here...remind him to get his shots on time? Oh, I won't forget...Oh, it's some damned movie on Showtime...have a good trip!"

Mulder fucked and stroked Krycek till he came, screaming and splattering the wall with come. Then Mulder came, yelling and shooting deep inside Krycek's heat.

"That was fuckin' great, Mulder, thanks for fucking me so good," Krycek said, twisting round and kissing him. "Bill," he said, "who was that on the phone?"

"Oh, I hadn't thought you'd notice. That was the Old Man, on his way to the airport."

"Yeah? What'd he want?"

"Oh, the usual. Probably wanted to see if you'd take off for Mulder's the instant he'd left. Now he'll call over there."

"God, he's incredibly jealous!" said Mulder, withdrawing from Krycek. 

"Here's a rag," said Runningwater. "You can wipe the wall there afterward."

"Expensive wallpaper," muttered Krycek. "Yes, he's jealous. I've been telling you, haven't I! And look at us! He has reason to be jealous!"

"Don't get dressed. Let's go fuck in a room," Mulder said, biting Krycek's neck.

"Wanna fuck in the master bedroom?"

"Does that one have the best bed or something?"

"Yes, and the sheets were just changed," Krycek said casually. I WON'T ask why, thought Mulder. "I wanna fuck you this time, Mulder."

"Will you suck me and fist me first?"

"Mulder, I will do whatever your heart desires." He turned and kissed the older man, licked and nipped those perfect, full lips, thrust in his tongue and met Mulder's, kissed his chin, licked down his throat, undid his buttons and licked his chest and bit and sucked his nipples, pushed him in the direction of the bed. "Lie on your stomach," he instructed Mulder.

He pulled off Mulder's jeans and shorts, nibbled on his neck, licked in big circles on his back, licked down his spine to his ass and rimmed him, poking his tongue up as far as it would go. Mulder moaned loudly and writhed. Krycek flipped him, went to work on his cock and his balls, sucking in each ball at a time, licking them, licking the tip of his painfully engorged cock, down the sides of the shaft. He lubed his hand and inserted first one finger. Mulder gasped. Then Krycek slid in a second, then a third and a fourth finger, and finally his entire fist. Mulder groaned. Krycek swallowed Mulder's cock, rubbing the tip with the back of his throat, his tongue working the head and shaft down to the root. Krycek sucked and licked and fucked Mulder with his fist till Mulder came, shooting hot liquid down Krycek's throat.

"My turn," remarked Krycek, kneeling in front of Mulder and slicking his cock with K-Y jelly and quickly mounting him. "I love to fuck," he said, "and, Mulder, I...love...to...fuck...you!" Mulder's enormous cock was soon rock-hard again and Krycek stroked it and fucked Mulder till he came, spurting all over Krycek's hand, his belly and the sheets. Krycek came soon after, shooting hot liquid deep into Mulder's ass. He fell forward onto Mulder, kissing him. "Oh my God, I love you!" he said, embracing his lover.

Slowly, they got up. "Are you hungry, Mulder?"

"Only for you, my love."

"Well, would you like me to bring you a glass of wine?"

"Sure, I'd like that!"

Krycek threw on a robe and drifted into the kitchen.

"You're walking on clouds," observed Bill Runningwater, kneading bread.

"Just getting that Chardonnay out of the refrigerator," Krycek said. 

"Starting early, are we?"

He laughed. "It's basically early. I have my recreational drug."

Bill turned and gave him a strange look which Krycek could not read.

Krycek gave Mulder the wine and went to get his shot. He opened the cabinet and his heart skipped a beat or two. There was nothing there. "Bill!" he called. "Where's the stuff?"

Runningwater stood in the doorway, his hands floury. "I flushed it."

"You WHAT? You WHAT?" Krycek cried.

"I flushed it. It's gone."

Krycek looked at him, desperate. "How could you do that? I'm gonna go into withdrawal!"

"Well, you won't die," the Navajo said, crossing his arms. "If you get too bad, I'll take you to a hospital."

"Oh, God!" said Krycek. "You're dooming me to utter misery!"

"Just for a little while, Alexei. I wanted to see you off that terrible drug."

"I need it. I'm gonna call him."

Mulder had come up to them and stood, twirling his wineglass. "What are we talking about here?"

Krycek turned to him. "Bill flushed all the heroin!"

Mulder laughed and clapped Runningwater on the back, squeezing his shoulder. "Thank you!"

"I'm calling him," said Krycek. He picked up the phone and punched in the Old Man's cell phone number. He got the voice mail; he must be in the air by now. "Hey, love, it's Alexei. Bill flushed all the heroin so I'll shortly be going into withdrawal. Please help me. I love you much, bye."

Mulder flinched at every "love." "Will he call back soon?"

"After the flight he will," said Krycek. "Meantime, I don't know what to do. Hey, Bill, people in hospitals get methadone. They don't have to cold-turkey it like you're making me do."

"Oh, the Old Man likes to keep stuff out of hospitals if he can."

"Oh, so you'll do that for him but you won't do the other? You know you're gonna really piss him off with this drug-flushing thing."

"Ah, so?" The Indian said blandly. "He won't hurt me."

Mulder looked at him. "I admire you, for not being afraid of the guy; everyone else is!"

"We're old friends and I've known him for years. If he were going to hurt or kill me, he would have done it by now," Runningwater said, shrugging. "I have to get back to my challah."

************************************************************************

Scully and White paid a visit to the poor fellow in El Camino Hospital. He was hooked up to life support, although the attending physician didn't seem to think he needed it. "His respiration is normal, heart rate normal and he's even digested some food. Problem is, he's stuck in that rigored position, number one, and he is essentially brain-dead.

"We can't get much in the way of electrical readings from his brain. And there is no Earthly reason he should be this way. He's suffered no head trauma that we can see."

Scully nodded. "Mind if I have a look at him?"

The doctor said, "No, I don't mind at all! Take a look!" The man was lying on his side and his legs drawn up as though he were sitting, his arms bent as though he were, perhaps, working at a computer.

"He was found at his computer, like this?" Scully asked. "What happened to him?" She was examining the man, going over his skin for evidence of an injection.

"We don't know."

"Toxicological studies?"

"Are completely normal," the other doctor said, scratching his head.

"And you say there's been no trauma?" she looked carefully over the man's face, head and neck. "I can't find any, either. Hm. This is a mystery."

The other physician cleared his throat. "There's something else weird, has to do with the computer he was working at. Evidently a passer-by noticed the computer was in DOS mode, and there were some messages on it. Messages like 'help me,' 'I'm captive in here,' things like that." 

She looked at him, tapping her chin. "Who told you this?

"The patient's boss. He rode up here with the paramedics. Evidently this fellow was held in high esteem, at least at work. It's a damned shame."

"What's the boss's name?"

"Steve Banarjee."

"OK," she said, jotting it down. "Do you expect this patient to come out of this vegetative state any time soon."

"No," he said, "never."

Scully next paid a visit to the manager at TelCom. She flashed her badge at the receptionist and was ushered back to Banarjee's office. She smiled at him. "I want to know what happened," she said.

"Well, it was a hell of a thing. Really awful. One minute he was typing away at his PC, working on a project, and the next he was just sitting there, stiff and brain-dead, from what they're saying."

"From what who's saying?" Scully asked alertly.

"Oh, the doctors. The computer was in DOS mode, which programmers use, you know, and all of a sudden these messages started popping up on the screen: 'help!' 'I'm stuck in here,' 'I'm captive,' things like that."

"Just spontaneously?" Scully asked, her brow crinkling.

"Yes, and they kept going...I thought at the time it was some silly little program he wrote, you know, programmers do that, but I don't know."

"May I see the actual computer?"

"Sure, come this way," he said, leading the way. "This was his cubicle, and this was his PC."

She looked carefully at the PC, the computer, monitor, keyboard and mouse. "Everything seems to be connected OK, and I'm not getting any shocks or anything like that. How is your wiring?"

"Fine, I guess," he said, and shrugged. "If you think he was electrocuted, I'd say the chance was remote."

"I can't leave any stone unturned. It doesn't seem to be giving those messages," she said, and then, wonder of wonders, 'HELP!' appeared on the screen in glowing green letters, and then 'HELP ME!' and then 'I CAN'T GET OUT!'" 

"Damn," she swore softly. "I'm taking this whole setup with me. I'll look at it in my office." Meaning my home, she thought.

"OK," the Indian said. "That's fine with me."

"What should I do?" asked Krycek. "I'm two hours past when my shot is due, and I'm beginning to feel bad."

"Tell you what," Mulder said softly, kissing him, "I'll suck you off. Let's hit the showers!"

Under the hot, sluicing water Mulder knelt and sucked Krycek, long and hard, till he came, yelling, "I love you!" and shooting hot come down Mulder's throat.

"Now, didn't that feel good?" Mulder asked, rising and embracing him. "Now, Alex, up against the wall so I can fuck you."

Krycek turned around, aided by a little shove from Mulder, grunting and groaning when Mulder pushed into him, moaning as Mulder fucked him and grasped his cock, stroking it. He came quickly and squirted come all over the wall, then Mulder came, calling Krycek's name.

"That was fuckin' great!" they agreed, left the shower, toweled off and dressed. They joined Bill Runningwater in the kitchen. He was just putting the challah bread in the oven. "You guys had a good time, huh?"

"Yes," Krycek said, looking at Mulder. "It was fuckin' great," Mulder said solemnly.

Krycek was beginning to sweat. "I'm sorry about this," he apologized.

"Oh, no, don't apologize," said Mulder. "It's natural, Alexei," said Runningwater quietly.

"Hey, Bill, how did a nice guy like you get to be best buds with the Smoking Man?" asked Mulder.

"It's long and complicated, and has to do with Navajo translation," he said.

"Wow. I mean, I can tell there's a story behind this," Mulder said, swinging on his barstool. Krycek, he noticed, was slumped over the counter. "Hey, Alex, are you all right?"

Krycek straightened. "I'm OK. I'm just going through withdrawal. It isn't pretty, Mulder."

"Why don't you two go outside, look at the grounds?" asked Bill Runningwater.

"Hey, that's a good idea," said Krycek. "C'mon, Mulder!"

"This is the lawn, as you can see," he said. "These are the pastures, and that over there is the pool."

"Oh, can I take a swim in it?"

Krycek laughed. "It's covered, and although it's heated it's a very cold day."

"Uncover it for me!" 

Krycek shook his head. "All right," and he uncovered the pool. Mulder walked to the deep end and casually dove into the pool, fully-clothed.

Krycek laughed. "Why did you do that?"

"Cause I've always wanted to," said Mulder, sweeping wet hair out of his face.

"Now we've got to get you inside and dry you and give you new clothes," scolded Krycek. "Here," he said, "come in."

They got the laughing Mulder out of his clothes, and he stood nude on the kitchen tiles, streaming water. "I almost can't resist that," said Krycek wistfully.

"You don't have to," said Mulder, winking.

Krycek went to him, dropped to his knees and took Mulder in his mouth, licking and sucking hard. When Mulder came he groaned and shot about a pound of hot liquid down Krycek's throat. Krycek cleaned him off and kissed him.

"That was awesome!" said Krycek. "And now I'd like to take a nap and sleep through some of my withdrawal."

"That sounds like a really good idea. Master bedroom?" Mulder asked hopefully.

"Oh yes, of course." They slept for several hours, then woke up when Bill Runningwater brought the phone to Krycek. "Call for you," he said brusquely.

"This is Alex," he said sleepily.

"Alex, what the hell is going on! Would you please tell me?"

"Um, Bill flushed all the stuff. It's all gone."

"I can't believe it! After what I've told him! His ass is grass! Alex, what you'll have to do is inject Percodan and Demerol, both. That should help you through some of the withdrawal. I don't have any methadone. Tell Bill to call a doctor at once. No, let me talk to him again."

Krycek handed the phone back to the vet. "Hi again...No, I'm not...He's not gonna die...OK, I will do that...Yes, I'll call a doctor...Yeah, yeah, I know...Yeah, you too!" The Navajo hung up. "What's Scully's number?" he asked abruptly.

Dana Scully arrived half an hour later, carrying a briefcase and doctor's bag. In that time, Krycek's condition had gone from OK to really bad. He was sweating pints, shaking and stuttering, and vomiting every five minutes. He answered the door and she looked gravely at him. "You don't look good at all, Alex," she said.

"I-I'm n-not," he said. Mulder was standing behind him, one hand on his shoulder to steady him.

"Alex, why don't you lie down on your bed, and then I can examine you," she said. He made it to his bed and lay down. She checked pulse, blood pressure, temperature and respiration. "Your pulse is fast, your blood pressure is a little on the high side, you're running a bit of a fever. I think you should be in the hospital, doing a medical detox."

He looked at her. "I can't. How could I explain things to a doctor, other than you, I mean. That my lover addicted me to heroin?"

Mulder blanched. "Lover?"

"Alex, that brings something else up. Number one, are you having safe sex, and number two, have you been tested for AIDS lately?"

"No, and no," he said, staring at the ceiling.

"Well, you should, you know, no matter who it is you're having sex with."

"Yeah hum," said Krycek. "How long does this detox take?"

"Varies. About a week, usually."

"Oh, Christ," he said.

"I'll stay with you," Mulder said quietly.

"You don't know when he'll get back," said Krycek.

"If he gets back when I'm here, I'll deal with it. He might cut me some slack because of your condition."

"I suppose," said Krycek. "Although, he's not a slack-cutting kind of guy."

Scully left, and there was another call an hour later, telling Krycek that his drug was on the way, carried by a couple of his goons, although he did not call them such. "Oh, thank God, and thank you," he breathed. "You're welcome. Don't let Bill intercept the delivery. Take it yourself. You'll have to mix it up in a 1% solution before you inject it. I'm including a small graduated flask with markings. Can you do that?"

"Yes, I don't see why not. I took chemistry."

"All right. Expect it to arrive within the hour, and as I said, you be there to intercept it."

"OK."

He hung up the phone thoughtfully. He wouldn't tell Mulder or Runningwater, of course. The shipment, arriving by goon, came twenty minutes later and by the front door. They carried between them two suitcases full of heroin, a number of hypodermic syringes, rubber bands, a graduated flask - as they say, the works. He took both briefcases into one of the guest bedrooms and stuffed them under the bed. Then he took what he needed into the bathroom, measured out his stuff and shot up. 

He returned to the kitchen where Mulder and Runningwater were talking. He sat at a barstool and giggled dopily.

They looked at him suspiciously. "What's up, Alexei?" Bill asked him. "Hmm?"

"Nothing, I'm just flying," he said, a big dopey grin on his face.

"Nothing, you're just flying," said Mulder. "Looks like someone just gave himself a happy shot," he said critically.

Krycek giggled and collapsed on the counter.

"Where'd you get the stuff, Alexei?" the Indian asked softly.

"Nowhere," he said. "Isn't it funny?"

"No, it's not funny at all. I'm gonna look until I find it, then I'm gonna flush it again."

Krycek shrugged. "All right," he said, "if you can find it."

"Oh, I'll find it."

"You're really not afraid of him," said Mulder, reaching for a sunflower seed and cracking it open.

"Here's a can for those. No, I'm not, not at all."

Krycek went furtively into the back bedroom, but both sets of eyes followed him. He shook out white powder into a baggie and stuck it in his jeans pocket. Bill Runningwater sighed, went into the bedroom, and pulled out both briefcases. "This is enough to supply New York City for a year," he remarked, opening them. "And it's gone, Alexei. Flushed. You can't have any more. Get used to the idea, and get used to it now."

"He'll just get me more, when he gets back," said Alex angrily. "Or, if I call him, he'll get it for me sooner."

"If you call him, then I, William Runningwater, will be more than happy to tell him you've got a little stay-over visitor," retorted the Navajo.

"You wouldn't!"

"Try me!"

Krycek started sullenly at his feet. "C'mon, Mulder!" he said at last, brightening, "let's fuck!"

The man tapped on the glass. "Right over here, I think," he said to his driver, who pulled over to the side of one of the nameless tiny country roads that crisscrossed southeastern Pennsylvania. "Wait here for me. I might be an hour or more," he instructed the driver, who nodded.

Carrying a small bundle, he climbed through dead, rattling sedge grass past the oak tree that looked, in the fading light, rather like a "laughing" human skull. He stood and waited, shaking out a cigarette and lighting it. Night fell and he began to doubt whether they'd come, but then there was a very bright light in the sky, and in his face, blinding him, and flashing red and blue lights; and he knew they'd come. He did not approach them more closely, but knelt and placed the soft bundle on the damp ground.

There were many, dozens maybe, that came streaming out of the craft, small humanoid-like creatures that he, being a human and tall for his species, towered over. One of them approached him and touched his hand with his long knobby fingers, and the man felt a shock like an electric current. "Have you got the microprocessor?" the alien said, but it was said without benefit of vocal apparatus, directly into the man's brain. As long as that strange hand touched his, they could communicate.

"Yes, it's in the bundle," he thought back at the alien. The creature didn't really smile, just gaped a little less, and picked up the bundle, which was wrapped in an American flag. "Yes, I surrender again," he thought. "It's part of the agreement. And this time, you get the whole world, not just the American people."

"And we spare you, your associates and those you designate as your family and loved ones. And confer on you such technology as you require. Yes, it's a good agreement," the alien said.

"When will you next contact me?" the man asked.

"When we need something," the creature said. It blinked at him and then turned to go. He watched them all file into the craft and the craft take off at a great rate of speed. 

Swishing through the sedge-grass with his head down, he tried not to think about what he'd just done to the human race. Hell, he'd done it before. But now - but now, he should be retired, on a desert isle with a drink in one hand and his Alex in another. Not working his machinations upon the playing field of the world. Upon his approach to the limousine, the driver got out and opened the door for the Smoking Man. He got in and they sped away.

"Suck me and fist me?" Mulder asked hopefully.

"You got it, baby!" Krycek said enthusiastically. "Let's go to the bedroom. You really like the fisting, don't you, Mulder?"

"I love it! It's like the world's biggest cock."

"OK," said Krycek, "lie back on the bed and let me do you."

Krycek licked under Mulder's ass and rimmed him, licked his balls and his cock, swallowed his cock up to the base and deep-throated him. He stuck first one, then two and then three lubed fingers up Mulder, then slid his whole hand up and fucked him with his hand while he sucked him. "How long can you last, Mulder?" he said, his mouth full of cock.

"Not too long!" was the response. "Oh, Alex, OH!" he said, and came, shooting down Krycek's throat.

"My turn," said Krycek. "Suck me, Mulder!"

Mulder rimmed him as Krycek had done him, licked his balls and his cock, and sucked him. "Fist me, Mulder!" Krycek said. "Use the lube," he gasped out.

Mulder lubed his hand, first inserting one finger, then two. Krycek gasped and moaned. "Put it all in, Mulder!" he said. Mulder carefully slid his whole hand in. Krycek groaned. "Oh, that's so good! Fuck me, Mulder!"

Mulder slid his fist in and out of Krycek, who tensed and came so hard he sat up in bed, yelping and yelling, shooting hot liquid into Mulder's mouth. Mulder swallowed. "Taste," he said, kissing Krycek. "You taste good!"

"So do you, Mulder! I love you, Mulder!"

"I love you so much, Alex!"

They lay together for a long while in bed, hand in hand, until Bill Runningwater poked his head in. "Dinner's ready, you two!"

It was Beef Wellington and the challah bread, and vegetables. Krycek picked at the mixed veggies but ate the bread. Mulder chowed down happily on everything. Bill looked hard at Krycek. "Starting to go through withdrawal yet?"

"Yeah," he said noncommittally.

"Are you holding, Alex?"

"What?" Krycek looked up from his plate, startled.

"You know what I mean. Empty out your pockets. Come on, stand up and do it!"

Krycek reluctantly stood up and emptied out his pockets. 

"Back pocket too, the one that has a bulge in it."

Krycek slid his hand down it and pulled out the baggie of white powder.

"Aha!" said Bill. "Hand it over, Alexei."

Krycek jumped back from the table, put his face in the powder and snorted some, then some more.

"You give me that," said Bill. Krycek snorted a huge amount then gave the rest to Runningwater. "You cheated, Alex."

"I don't like suffering, you know?"

The vet shook his head. "You're too much!"

"So," David White said over the dinner table, "Mulder is staying up there to help Alex? That's really nice. This is a really nice ham, Dana."

"Will be, until his keeper comes to claim him," mused Scully, sipping her latte.

"Nice he's been away for a couple of days. Fewer murders around here. Tell me about the fellow at the hospital."

"Oh, Brad Seames? Brain-dead, of no known cause. I brought the computer home to play with it. It's at Byers' apartment, and he was taking it apart, last I saw."

"What? You think the computer has some connection with the condition of the man?" She nodded. "Yes, I do. There are messages which spontaneously appear when the computer is in DOS mode, indicating either that the programmer is a silly prankster or that something like the brain functions of the user were trapped inside the computer somehow."

"Well, this is sounding very Star Trek. Should he ask to be beamed up?"

"Ha ha, very funny, this is deadly serious."

"If it happened to Brad Seames, why not to his co-workers? Why not his friends?"

"Maybe it only strikes once," she said, forking ham into her mouth, "whatever IT is."

"Maybe," he said. "I hope the Gunmen aren't in any danger."

"Oh, they seemed to know what they were doing. They said they were after a microprocessor."

"Did they? Hm," he said, going after the green beans almondine. "You've turned into a helluva cook, Dana," he added.

"Thanks," she grinned, "only with your help."

After dinner Mulder and Krycek showered together. Krycek pushed Mulder against the tiles and fucked him, his big cock hard in Mulder, stroking Mulder's even bigger cock till they both came, groaning and shouting, Mulder splashing the shower wall and Krycek coming deep inside him.

"Are you a top or a bottom?" Mulder asked curiously to Krycek, who looked at him and made a dismissive gesture.

"No, I'm curious, which do you prefer?"

"I like 'em both," Krycek said airily.

Mulder slept well that night, but Krycek did not. He slept fitfully, waking frequently and once banging on Runningwater's door. "Please, I need more stuff," he begged.

"You woke me up for that? No, you can't have any more. I got rid of it. Go back to bed, Alexei."

At six o'clock Krycek was already up, brushing his teeth. He'd gotten Mulder up and he was slumped at the counter over a bowl of cornflakes. The front door banged open. "Who the fuck is that?" Krycek asked, poking his head out the bathroom door.

"One might ask, 'who the fuck is THAT?'," the man said, pointing to Mulder, "except, of course, that I already know. Well, Fox, you seem to have made yourself at home," he added, taking in the bathrobe (his), the Cornflakes and the wet hair.

Mulder looked at him, dropped his spoon. "Um," he said intelligently.

"Fox, get dressed. Now. Alex, come here. You haven't had a shot for a while, so I'll give you one." Mulder slid off the barstool and went warily to the bedroom, quickly pulling on jeans, sweater, socks and shoes. He was at least spared the sight of the Smoking Man shooting up Krycek. Then he went back to the kitchen.

"If you don't want to see this, Fox, I suggest you leave," the man said bluntly. Mulder gaped. Krycek was minus his robe, therefore minus his clothes, leaning against the wall. And he was hard. Mulder watched in horror as the man took out his cock, lubed it and penetrated Krycek, who gasped and moaned.

Bill Runningwater appeared and took his elbow in a firm grip. "You don't have to see this, Mulder," he said. "Come outside with me." He allowed himself to be led a few steps.

"Hey," he said, "shouldn't I be doing something about this? This is truly horrible!"

"There's nothing you can do. Just let it happen." He led Mulder to the end of the hall. As they reached the door, Runningwater reaching for the doorknob, Mulder heard Krycek shouting his orgasm, and then the older man crying "Alex, Alex!"

Mulder turned the doorknob and plunged outside. He felt something warm running down his chin. He touched it and looked: it was blood. He'd bitten his lip till he bit all the way through. He looked helplessly at the Indian. "That might have to be sutured," he said. "How did you do that without realizing it?"

"I don't know, I don't know," he whispered. "Alex," he said, looking into Bill's eyes. "Alex."

"I know, pretty traumatic, right? That's what he does when he gets home from these trips, can't wait to get at Alex. The more evil he's done in the world, the more he wants Alex, so this one must have been a doozy."

Mulder nodded. "I just can't believe it," he whispered.

"Believe it," said a voice nearby. The Smoking Man was standing on the doorstep, fully-dressed, shaking out a Morley. He lit it. "You can never win against me, Fox," he remarked.

Mulder looked at him for a long moment, hauled off and hit him in the jaw. The man rubbed the rapidly-darkening bruise and then punched Mulder in the face. Mulder went over backward. When he sat up he realized his nose was running blood. The man stood over him. "You're a mess...Son," he said. "Here," and he handed him a linen handkerchief embroidered "C.G.B.S." Mulder dimly registered a car door slamming across the street, and quick footsteps running up to them.

"I saw the whole thing! YOU TWO!" she scolded, "are like two little boys fighting over a toy! Exactly like that!" she said, waving her index finger in the Smoking Man's face. "You should know better!"

"Come here, Mulder! Get in your car and follow me home right now!"

He went obediently to his car but not before he shot a glare at his father, who stood smoking with one hand, holding the be-robed Krycek in the other. He drove home. "Come stay with us for a while," Scully offered, taking his hand. "Come in, come in! What would you like for breakfast?"

"Anything," said Mulder. "How did you know to come get me?"

"I could say it was ESP, but we had intelligence that his flight was coming in at 4 this morning, and I didn't want you caught up in that. I'm really surprised, Mulder, that he didn't kill you."

"Wow. Thanks so much for your caring and all that."

"You're welcome," she said, and just brushed his lips with hers. She had very pretty lips, he noticed. She straightened up. "How does French toast sound?"

"Sounds great! Think I could have a drink?" he asked hopefully.

"You poor baby! You need one! I'll get you a Mimosa. I can't drink, but it's fine that you do."

She looked at his lip, and decided to place two sutures in it. After the operation, he ate French toast and bacon and drank Mimosas with his best, his bosom buddy, and pretty soon things didn't look so bleak. "You should've seen the look on his face when I socked him!" he crowed.

"Yes, Mulder, that was brave...and foolish! He could have pulled a gun on you!"

"He wouldn't. I'm his last, remaining son. His fair-haired boy."

"Mulder, you just can't count on things with him. He is not like you and me. His history, his behavior is quite beyond the pale."

Mulder played with a piece of bacon. "Where's White?" he asked, looking up.

"He's out getting parts for the heaters that don't work. None of them work properly. Byers especially is freezing his ass, or would be if he didn't have a fireplace."

"Let's you and me go over there, kick him out and lie in front of the fireplace."

"Why don't you go into the spare room, get into bed and pull the covers up? I have extra blankets."

"Will you get in with me? You can help warm me up."

She looked at him speculatively. "All right," she said. They got into bed fully-clothed and embraced. "I feel warmer," said Mulder, "but I'd be even warmer if we had, uh, fewer clothes."

"All right," she said, taking off her sweater. She still had a T-shirt on.

"That's cheating, Scully," he said, skinning off his sweater. "See-bare torso. You do it, too!"

She sighed and took off her T-shirt and bra. 

"Is this better, Mulder?" She noticed that her heart was racing.

"It's much better," he said. "c'mere, Scully. Kiss me!"

She moved slowly to him and kissed him slowly, deeply. "Feel this," he said, and moved her hand down to his cock, which was large and hard and throbbing.

Scully touched him, surprised to find him hard. "Go ahead," said Mulder, "it won't bite." She stroked him and he groaned. With one hand stroking him she kissed him, their tongues exploring and meeting. She gently licked his upper lip, his lower lip, ran a wet trail down his throat, his chest, and sucked his nipples. "Get on top of me. Put me inside you." he said.

She mounted him fluidly and his cock was so big, so big inside her and she gasped. "You're really tight," he said approvingly. "Fuck me." She thrust downward with her hips and he thrust upward, and both of them groaned. They kept at this for a few minutes and Scully, feeling warmth gathering in her pelvis, sat up and closed her eyes. "Ah...AHHH!" she cried, coming in spasms, and her contractions triggered Mulder's orgasm and he shot hot fluid up her.

She collapsed onto his chest. "God, Mulder," she said. "This is, like, so totally unexpected."

"Which part of it?" he asked, playing with her hair.

"All of it!"

He could feel himself getting hard again. "Wanna make love again?" he asked hopefully. She looked at him. "Of course I do."

"I'm on top this time," he said. "Lie back, Scully."

She lay back on the bed. He kissed her hair, her forehead, her nose, her chin and her full lips, parted the lips with his tongue, kissed her as far back in her mouth as his tongue would reach, licked her throat and between her breasts, sucked her nipples, licked down her stomach and sucked her navel, and licked between her legs. "I can taste myself," he observed, came back up and kissed her, and she tasted him and herself.

"Want it?" he asked her.

"Mulder, you know I do!"

"'K, here it is!" and he mounted her, again that huge cock in her, and she gasped. "I'm gonna fuck you good, Scully," he said and proceeded to do so. She moaned and writhed. "Don't come yet, Scully, I want us to come at the same time," he said. "'K, I'm ready," he grunted, a few minutes later, and they let loose with moans and screams and caterwauls that must have had the Gunmen, at least, wondering what was going on.

"Mulder, I really didn't think you had it in you," Scully observed drowsily, and fell asleep in his arms, and that was how David White found them, in the spare bedroom, not a stitch on.

He cleared his throat. "I'm sure that, as adults, we can all discuss this reasonably," he said, and Mulder and Scully woke up. Scully shrieked and pulled up the blankets. "Dana, I've seen that before," White said mildly. "Now get dressed, you two, and we'll have a discussion over coffee."

They scrambled for their clothes. "Shit!" said Mulder. "No shit!" said Scully. They joined White at the table. "OK," he said, pouring the coffee, "there was some reason you two were naked in bed together, and it wasn't to count the cracks in the ceiling. Now," he said, sitting down with his coffee, "It's almost unbelievable to me that 1) my loving wife-to-be, bearing my child, is stepping out on me already with 2) a gay man in love with another man. Would either one of you care to explain this?"

"Um," said Mulder, "she was trying to comfort me, because of what happened to me today, and things just got a little out of hand."

"I'd say they got very, extremely out of hand," said White, sipping coffee. "Would you like to speak to this, Dana?" he asked.

"I'm so sorry," she said miserably. "I still love you very much, Dave, and I hope you still love me too. Yes, it's true, I was trying to comfort him. I'm really sorry about what happened."

"If it makes things better, I seduced her, rather than the other way around," said Mulder.

White tapped his chin. "You," he said, "are supposed to be gay! What gives?"

"Sometimes a gay man can sleep with a woman," Mulder said. "Look at all the married gay men, with children."

"That's out of necessity, or wanting to appear conventional. That's not what this was, was it?"

"No," said Mulder thoughtfully. "You know, we've been friends for ages, so it's natural we'd have tender feelings for each other."

"Tender feelings don't necessarily translate to screwing like crazed weasels."

"Hey, who's to say we just didn't hold each other?"

"Number one, you used the word 'seduced.' Number two, someone saw you," said White grimly. "And yes, that was approximately his description."

"Who -- oh, did one of the Lone Gunmen wander in here?"

White was silent.

Scully blushed crimson, and Mulder stared into his coffee, stirring it.

"Mulder, are you in love with my woman?"

"No, not the way you mean it. I love her, she's my best-ever friend, I think she's beautiful, but I'm in love with another."

"So this was just some kind of thrill-seeking kinky lay to you?"

Mulder rolled his eyes. "NO! Oh, I can't express it!"

Scully motioned for White to get up and they went down the hall. "Dave!" she hissed. "Have you never heard of a 'mercy fuck'? Listen to me! If you were in love with me but I belonged to another, an enormously powerful man who could do anything he wanted, and he wasted no opportunity of shoving the fact that he controlled me, and you, right in your face, grinding your face in it, and then he laughed, laughed, Dave -- well, what would you do?"

"I'd go fuckin' crazy, I guess," he admitted. "Did something like that happen today?"

"Oh, it was terrible. Mulder hit him, and he knocked Mulder down. Evidently Mulder'd.. the guy had sex with Krycek right in front of Mulder .... can you imagine? Put yourself in Mulder's place!"

"Shit!" said White.

"Well, that's what Mulder goes through, day and night! What we go through on this case, this most difficult of all cases, Mulder goes through, but he must endure so much more than we... Have a heart, Dave! Blame me! I wanted so much to make him feel better!"

"And now you feel better, too...was he any good?"

"Oh, fair," she said, lying. "I love you. Kiss me!"

He kissed her and soon they were in liplock.

************************************************************************

"So where is he?" the Well-Manicured Man asked irritably, nibbling at a croissant.

"Late, as usual," someone noted.

"His flight came in at 4, and here it is 9 -- how many times can he shtup that boychik in one morning?" the WMM asked. 

There was laughter. "As many times as he wants to," said the First Elder gravely.

"I see him!" said the Second Elder. "He's on the sidewalk."

They looked out the window of the top floor of the University Bank Building and caught him disappearing into the door.

"I hate this," said the WMM, sighing.

Spender breezed through the heavy oak door a moment later and took his seat at the head of the table. "Secure the door," he barked. "I've had contact with the aliens. I gave them the chip. Yes, they have the technology, but it was symbolic of the agreement. I also surrendered the people of the world to them in exchange for our safety, and further technology."

"Well done," said the First Elder, clinking the ice in his iced tea.

"I don't think so," groused the WMM. "You've gone and done it this time."

"I've gone and done what?" asked the Smoking Man, lighting a cigarette.

"Sold out the entire human race, and their dominion will occur pretty rapidly, won't it?"

"I don't care," said the Smoking Man. "It had to be done. I'm the only one with the guts to do it."

They looked down at their coffees, teas and pastries.

"Well?" he asked, blowing smoke. "Someone, get me a cup of coffee, will you? Black, lots of sugar." One of the men poked his head out the door and hollered at the caterers. His coffee was brought in, and he waited until the fellow left before continuing.

"It had to be this way," he said. "There was no other solution."

"The final solution," said the Second Elder, who happened to be Jewish.

"It's immaterial to me whether you like it or not. Anyway, all of you, plus all you hold dear, will be saved, so what's the big deal?" he asked, sipping his coffee.

"The big deal is murder on the largest mass scale in history," said the WMM.

"Can you think of a better idea?" the Smoking Man asked, taking a drag off his Morley.

"No, but...my God, man!" the WMM spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. "Well, it's done. We can't undo it."

He left first, grabbing his briefcase and heading for the elevators. "He's turning into a megalomaniac," said the WMM grimly.

"He always was," said the First Elder. "Why should today be any different?"

************************************************************************

Krycek lay on the bed in a dopey haze until Bill Runningwater came and rousted him out. "Get up, Alexei, and go take care of your horses! I'm tired of doing it! Go and ride them and get some exercise! Your beautiful muscles, my dear, will all turn to flab."

"Hey, I exercise in the gym!" he said defensively. "Every day, abs, delts, pecs, glutes, the works!"

"I know, but I want to see you get out and get some fresh air."

Krycek unwillingly rose from the bed and changed into his riding clothes: boots, breeches, a pink shirt, purple tie and tweed jacket with elbow patches. To this he added his hard hat, and he was set. "Like my faggot riding outfit?" he asked Runningwater, who grinned.

Krycek walked outside and called Guardian. The giant bay stallion was full of oats, fat and sassy. Krycek saddled and bridled him and mounted him easily. "Think I can't ride you, huh, boy?" he asked when the stallion executed a series of small bucks and rears. Bill came out to watch, wiping damp hands on an apron. He never stopped to marvel at the boy's amazing natural riding ability. He stuck like a burr on a horse so that he and the animal became one, a centaur.

Krycek put Guardian over a fence, then back again. The property backed onto Foothills Park, or Dead Ranger Park, as he privately called it. "I'm going into Foothills," he called to Bill. "OK! Be back around lunch!"

I'll be back when I damned well please, he thought, and put the horse back over the fence, riding at a canter into the park. There were a lot of great trails here, which unfortunately he had to share with hikers, mountain bikers and joggers, but one got used to that.

He passed a jogger who hailed him, so he stopped. "You look awfully familiar," the young man said. "I'm Bob, from Bora Bora?"

"Oh, my God!" Krycek exclaimed. "I remember you now. What a coincidence! "I'm Alex!"

They shook hands.

"Do you live around here?" Bob asked.

"Yeah, mm-hm, in Portola Valley, that way. You?"

"I live in Palo Alto. Sure is a pretty horse. Can I pet him?"

"Sure. He likes to be petted on the neck most. Do you know horses?"

"Oh, no," the man laughed. "I just like 'em. Is this a Thoroughbred?"

"Yes," said Krycek proudly. "Two-year-old Horse of the Year, 1996. Runner-up for Three-year-old Horse of the Year. Won every start, set many speed records."

"I'll bet! He has such long legs. How tall is he?"

"He's nearly 18 hands, which is tall even for a Thoroughbred. He traces direct male-tail line to Man o' War."

"Wow. You must be very wealthy, to have been able to buy such an animal."

"No," Krycek said, his face clouding over. "My ... my lover is."

"The old guy? He's got a lot of money; that's why you're with him?"

"It's more complicated than that," Krycek said. "In fact, it's very complicated indeed."

Bob looked at him, sensing something strange beneath the surface of the familiar scenario of the rich old man keeping the beautiful young one. "Do you want my number?" he finally asked. "Just to talk, maybe go out for coffee? No pressure, you understand."

"All right," said Krycek. "But you should know," he began, then shook his head. You should know he kills his rivals, or makes their lives a living death, he thought, but did not say.

"I should know what?"

"That we have to be really cautious," he said.

"Is he very jealous?"

"Yes, and he's...he's very dangerous, OK?"

Bob raised his eyebrows. "What does that mean? He's likely to kill me or something?"

Yes. That's exactly what that means.

"I've got to get going," Krycek said. As he galloped off, he turned around in the saddle to look at the man, who blew him a kiss. Mulder, he thought, Mulder. What good would it do to go out with this "Bob"? He didn't exactly lack for sex; he would endanger himself and "Bob," he would be tempted to unload on the man all his torment, and he could not, as much of it was secret; he would be constantly comparing the man to his love, Mulder.

On impulse he checked the stallion to a walk and pulled out his new cell phone, purchased through the mail, and punched in a number. "Mulder." 

"Mulder, this is Krycek."

"Alex! Alex! How are you? What are you doing?"

"I'm fine, and I'm riding Guardian through the wilds of Foothills Park. What's up with you?"

"Um, Alex, something weird happened."

"What kind of something weird?"

"Alex, I fucked Scully."

Silence. Then, "Tell me you didn't actually do that, Mulder. This is one of your jokes, right?"

"No, it really happened and I feel really weird about it."

Krycek sighed. "OK, take it from the top."

"It was after that scene with the CSM. Alex, I saw you two fucking and I got mad and hit him. Then he knocked me down."

"I know, I saw it all."

"And he said, um, he said I could never win against him."

"Yes, he did. And?"

"And I went home to Scully's and before you know it, we were in bed, and, well, things went from there."

Krycek laughed. "I thought you didn't even like girls."

"Well, I've had girlfriends, you know. I've had practice. Anyway, that's how it happened. One of the Lone Gunmen caught us and told White. He was plenty pissed until Scully took him aside and told him it was a sympathy fuck, that she still loved him and so forth. She told him to put himself in my place."

"It's a pretty difficult place," said Krycek sympathetically. "Wow. This is so interesting. You actually got it up for a woman."

"Scully is pretty special, you know."

"I know you two have been close friends for time immemorial. But I never thought..."

"Neither did I," said Mulder truthfully. "I'm not in love with her, Alex. I'm in love with you."

Get in line, thought Krycek. "I know, Mulder. I'm not worried. Look, I don't have a leg to stand on about fidelity."

"But with you, you have to be unfaithful to me. You don't have much of a choice in the matter."

"Oh, I do, but I like living, and especially, I like living NOT in jail."

"You like the guy, too, Alex, I know."

Guardian was cresting a hill. Krycek could see Stanford, the Hoover Tower, the Dumbarton and San Mateo Bridges. "I can see for miles and miles, Mulder!"

"Are you on a hill?"

"I am, and it's glorious!" He slid off the horse and put a halter on, roping the stallion to a tree. There was enough rope for Guardian to crop the green winter grass. "I do, you know," he said.

"Do what?"

"Like him. I sort of love him and sort of hate him, Mulder, and those are my honest feelings."

Mulder digested this. "Thank you for being honest with me," he said.

"Think 'Tainted Love'." Krycek said suddenly.

"What?"

"The song, remember it?"

"Yeah, sort of."

"I'll sing it for you," said Krycek. A passerby stopped to look and wonder at the young man in full "faggot riding gear," petting a big stallion with one hand and singing loudly, tunefully and mournfully into a cell phone held with the other.

"That's heavy," said Mulder when he'd finished. "Alex, I want you to know that I appreciate your being so understanding about the Scully thing."

"It happens," said Krycek. "I'm not angry. I guess you're a better man than I, because I could never get it up for a woman. Not any more," he said, thinking of Mahdib.

"I've gotta get back soon. He went somewhere, God knows where, and if he gets back before me he'll go ballistic."

"OK then."

Krycek untied the horse and swung aboard, moving off at a trot. He reached the house at about the same time as the Old Man, who was just getting out of his Porsche. "Hey," Krycek called to him. 

"I've got something for you," the man said. "Come on inside when you've finished with the horse."

Krycek unsaddled and unbridled Guardian, groomed him and set him loose in the pasture, and went inside. 

"Here," the man said, opening his briefcase. "See what I've brought for you!" Krycek looked with interest. He was handed a diamond-and-emerald choker. "That's beautiful!" he said slowly.

"Put it on!" Krycek clasped it in back and looked at himself in the mirror. Yes, it was very beautiful, and yes, he now looked the part of the world's most expensive whore. 

"You look absolutely stunning," the man said. "I want to take you places, and I want you to look your best."

"What kinds of places?" Krycek asked with interest.

"The opera, the theater, clubs," he said. "You are such an ornament, Alex!"

"You don't mind people knowing you're gay?"

"I don't care. I have no Earthly reason to care. It's past time for a shot, Alex. Sit down and I'll get it for you."

"Where's Bill?" Krycek asked. 

"I don't know. He went out somewhere...here you go. How do you feel?"

"Great!"

"Good! Put on all your jewelry, remove your clothes and lie on the bed face-up. I want to fuck you like that, a gem among gems."

************************************************************************

Mulder went over to see how the Gunmen were doing. And maybe to yell a little. All three were in Byers' bungalow, hunched over a dismantled CPU. "Here's the little bugger," said Byers, holding up a microprocessor. "This is the thing that's caused all the trouble. Well, most of it," he said, looking at the monitor. "That's next."

"Hey, guys," said Mulder. "I want to know which one of you snitched me and Scully off."

Silence. "It wasn't me," said Frohike, truthfully if ungrammatically.

Byers didn't look up from what he was doing, and Langly decided right then to go to the bathroom. "Langly," said Mulder, "I know it was you. It wasn't cool, Langly."

He came back from turning the faucets on and off for a while. "I did it because it wasn't right, what you were doing with Scully."

"Don't you think that was my and Scully's business and not yours?"

"Look, I'm sorry, OK?" Langly said, adjusting his glasses.

"All right," said Mulder, "apology accepted. Now what are you guys doing?"

"Well, see this? It's a microprocessor. When the ads tout a Pentium this or that, they're talking about one of these. This computer had two -- the "real" one, which is a Pentium, and this one. This one is what we believe originated the severe brain damage. We don't know why yet."

There was a knock on the door. "Come in, Scully," Mulder called, but it was not Scully. It was Bill Runningwater. "So," said Mulder, "coming into the enemy's camp, huh?"

Byers quickly covered the "chip" with his hand. "He's spying on us!" said Frohike.

"I'm here to learn all I can," Runningwater said, "but I'm not a spy. I just need to know what he's up to; he's very close-mouthed about it all."

"Doesn't Krycek know?" asked Langly.

Mulder and Runningwater both snorted. "As if," Mulder said. "He knows nothing," said Runningwater. "He's kept in the dark too."

"He's kept in the dark too. Makes a person feel like a mushroom." Langly tittered.

"This chip is a causal factor in a brain death," said Byers, handing it to Bill.

"I've seen this, or something like it," said Runningwater, turning it over and over.

"There are microprocessors in every personal computer," began Byers. "It--"

"No, no, I mean I've seen something identical to this. I have a pretty good memory. Alex picked it up from the kitchen table. The Old Man yanked it away from him pretty fast."

There was a series of "oh's," sighs and a "whew!" "We have bingo!" said Byers.

Mulder pulled out his sunflower seeds from a jacket pocket and shook some out, stuffing a few in his face. "Now we know what he's up to!"

"Correction," said Byers, "we now know a tiny little bit of what he's up to. I'll be running this baby under a microscope, see what I can see. If nothing, then it's up to a scanning electron 'scope that can discern individual atoms."

"Where will you get something like that?" asked Mulder, chewing thoughtfully on seeds.

"Oh, Stanford," said Byers briefly.

"Oh? But isn't it likely they developed the technology in the first place?"

Byers cleared his throat. "They don't have to KNOW," said Frohike.

"Oh, you guys doing your cloak-and-dagger routine again?" asked Mulder, amused. He spat a hull into his hand. "Where can I put these?" Langly handed him the trash can.

"I'll be very interested to learn all you find out," said Runningwater, earnestly.

"So you are a double agent?" asked Frohike.

The Navajo laughed. "I guess you could put it that way. He's up to something really horrible this time, from the looks of things," he mused, "and although he's my friend, I don't want him decimating the world's population."

The Gunmen looked at each other. "He's for real," Mulder said, patting the vet on the back.

"Don't spies get shot?" Langly asked, unwrapping a strawberry sucker.

"Krycek wasn't shot," said Frohike.

"Yeah, but look at Krycek!" said Langly, and Frohike giggled. "Oops," he said, glancing at Bill, who was smiling. "It's true," he said, "Alex has certain...natural advantages over most of us, but no, he's not going to find out, at least not from me, and he's not going to shoot me."

"So why would he have just left this thing out, after it killed the guy, or rendered him brain-dead at any rate, which I understand is essentially the same thing, to be discovered by the likes of the Lone Gunmen?"

"He wasn't counting on our expertise," said Byers, pleased with himself.

"We're brilliant," said Frohike modestly.

"Yeah, but I think he knows of your existence. He would've had to've known, from the days when Krycek was working for him as an operative, although perhaps he doesn't take you seriously. So why, then, unless this was just a test and he's really already set the whole thing in motion? Or unless he plans to eliminate you? And, and gentlemen, I propose to you this: he has a backup plan implemented, in case this one fails, and what that is, we really have no idea at all."

The Gunmen looked crestfallen. "We'll figure that one out when we come to it," said Frohike. "You don't really think he'd hurt us?"

"If he regarded you as an enemy, he'd hurt you in a hot second," said Mulder solemnly. "So you've probably escaped his notice. For now. So don't be too obvious about breaking into the Stanford physical chem lab, for God's sake. Listen, you guys are my BUDDIES, even though you did snitch me and Scully off, Langly, and I don't want anything bad happening to you!"

"How was she?" asked Frohike. "Ha! Wouldn't you like to know!" Mulder said, eyes gleaming. "Well, the answer is: far and away the best woman I've ever had!"

Bill Runningwater regarded him as though he'd lost his mind. "You...Scully?" he stammered.

"Yes, we did. Yes, Alexei knows. He was shocked, and curious, as you are. But these things happen. Remember, I had a lot more time being a heterosexual than Alex did."

"Good Lord!" said Bill. "This is too much for this old brain to digest!"

"Well," said Mulder. "OK. You guys get that chip over to Stanford. You can use your universal key card to get in the p-chem lab. You, Bill, you 'lurk' -- just pick up whatever information you can, and believe me, he will drop some from time to time, believing that you're a 'secure line.'"

Runningwater shook his head. "I hate deceiving him this way."

"You'll a damn sight worse hate selling out the entire human race with him."

"All right," said Bill, heavily. "I'll do it."

"Good! Now what's that thing you three say? The Three Musketeers thing?"

"All for one, and one for all," said Langly.

"Everyone put their hands in the center. All for one, and one for all! Go team!"

************************************************************************

Scully and White showered together, made love in the shower, made love on the hall carpet and on their bed, and then they cuddled. "You know," White said, ruffling her hair, "It's kind of a turn-on!"

"What's that?" she asked him.

"That even a gay man would find you sexy enough to screw."

She laughed. "You're funny!"

"You didn't by chance have safe sex, did you?"

Guilty silence.

"Aha, thought not! Well, at least you're already carrying my child and you can't get pregnant, but maybe you should get tested."

"For AIDS?! Mulder doesn't have AIDS!"

"Well, you know what they say, Dr. Scully: when you sleep with someone, you sleep with everyone that person has slept with, and everyone they've slept with, and so on..."

Scully sat up in bed laughing her head off. "That means I've slept with Diana Fowley, and you, YOU, Dave, have just slept with the Smoking Man! Oh my God, this is too funny!" she whooped and gasped for air.

"Hey!" he said, "it isn't all THAT funny! Let's at least switch that! I slept with Diana Fowley, YOU slept with the Smoking Man!"

Scully laughed so hard her eyes streamed water and she coughed, ran to the bathroom, threw up, ran back and got into bed still laughing.

"Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.

"Never better," she said, and the laughter was down to a giggle. "I'll get tested, all right?"

"All right," he said, somewhat mollified. "C'mere, Dana. I don't really think you have AIDS. If you ever do something like that again, though, at least use precautions, all right? Mulder, for example, evidently doesn't, and I'll bet Krycek doesn't, and so on, and this is how these diseases get a foothold."

"OK," she said. "you got a deal!"

Someone knocked on the door. "Just a sec," Scully called, slipping out of bed and pulling on a robe.

"It's Mulder!" he called.

"Just a sec, Mulder," then she reached the door. "Yes?"

He was chewing on a seed and had something in his hand, which he held out to her. "Yes? It's a microprocessor."

"It's the root cause of that brain death, Scully. The Gunmen just dissected that PC. Bill Runningwater was even there."

"Really? What'd he want?" she asked, frowning slightly and turning the "chip" over and over in her hand.

"Spying for his dark master," said Mulder solemnly, then punched her gently on the arm. "He wanted the same thing we want, Scully. To find the truth! Can I come in?"

"Oh, come in," she said. "There's fresh coffee, I think."

"I need that back," Mulder said, indicating the processor. She handed it back to him and he pocketed it. "They need to run it through a scanning electron microscope."

"Oh, where, at Stanford? Stanford's just the place where this was probably developed!"

"Yeah, I know. They're gonna break into the p-chem lab," he said.

"Spit it in here," she said, indicating a coffee cup. "They love the spy stuff, don't they?"

He grinned. "Yeah, they do."

"Aren't you afraid that Bill Runningwater will bear tales?"

He snorted. "No, I'm not. He's very trustworthy."

"There could be an accidental, inadvertent slip."

"He's an Indian, remember? They know how to hold their own counsel."

"OK. Here's your coffee. Black, with lots of sugar?"

************************************************************************

"You should go out riding again," said the man, sitting up and lighting a cigarette.

"What, even though I'm too sore to sit down?" Krycek asked, yawning.

"Don't go getting lazy on me! Go on!" he said, whacking Krycek's rump. The young man rose reluctantly and pulled on his riding clothes. "Don't wear that pink shirt with that purple tie," the man said.

"Too nellie?"

"Well, yeah. Don't you have something more..."

"More butch?" Krycek said, smirking. "How about this blue shirt? Macho enough for you?"

"That's better. Where are you riding?" 

Where I damned well please. "Around," he said, "probably Woodside, I guess."

"OK, well, have a good ride. I'll expect you back before dark," he said, picking up his Wall Street Journal.

Krycek saddled Diablo for his next ride, wincing as he swung into the saddle. Damn, the guy was hard on him! He reined the stallion over the fence and rode at a good clip on the shoulder on the right side of Portola Road. Turning left on Whiskey Hill Road and then left again on Woodside, he rode up that road and took a right at the Wunderlich Park cutoff. He rode Diablo at a canter straight up the trail, wide and graded for horses. When he reached Skyline Boulevard he turned left and so came at last to the ocean. He pulled the horse up and sat enjoying a spectacular sunset over the water. When darkness began to fall his cell phone shrilled.

"Yeah?" he said into it.

"Alexei, where the hell are you?"

"I'm ...um.. on my way to San Gregorio."

"You're WHAT! Get back here this instant!"

Krycek made an ugly face into the phone. "No," he said. "I'm going to San Gregorio."

Sigh. "OK, Alex. We're coming by to pick you up. At that general store, right? That's where you're heading?"

"Yes," said Krycek unwillingly.

"I'm sending Bill with the horse trailer, and I'll drive separately. We'll be there in an hour, hour and a half."

Krycek hung up and urged the stallion on up the road.

He arrived at the bar within half an hour, slid off and tied the horse to a telephone pole. "Look at the pretty horse," a young girl enthused, running her hand along Diablo's sweaty flank. "Is he Arab?"

"Half," said Krycek. "Looks like a purebred, though, doesn't he?"

He went inside. The house band was tuning up; he slipped into a seat near the back and ordered a beer from the smiling barmaid. The emcee, also the owner of the store/saloon, walked onstage. "As you all know, it's open mike night tonight. You get to pick the singers, or you can even volunteer, you know!"

There was some activity near the center of the crowd, and a young girl raised her hand. "I'll go! I'll go!" she called. She made her way to the stage and began "Both Sides Now." She didn't do a bad job, and was encored to sing, "Fast Car," which she really didn't have the right voice for, Krycek thought, but he clapped enthusiastically along with the others.

Next up was a middle-aged man who sang "Sugaree," which proved very popular with the audience, which shouted the lyrics along with him. Krycek remembered that this fellow was actually about the age of the late Jerry Garcia, had he lived. He also recalled what Garcia had died of, and fell silent.

The barmaid walked onstage. "Round-robin!" she called, and was greeted with whoops and cheers. The middle-aged man raised an index finger, appeared to vacillate, then pointed right at Krycek. The crowd fell silent. He made his way onstage. "The Reflex," he said, and the band began the strange intro. He sang his heart out, and the audience had never heard or seen anything like it. They forgot at first to clap. Then the young Diablo-admirer stood up and clapped and cheered, and they all did. "Encore, encore!" they shouted.

They wouldn't let him sit down. He sang "Satisfaction," and "Violet," and "Radio Free Europe," and "Do you Really Want to Hurt Me," and "Yesterday," and finally someone asked for "The Needle and the Damage Done." Krycek cast a very strange glance in her direction but launched into the song, singing soulfully and sadly, "I've seen the needle and the damage done, a little part of it in everyone, and every junkie's like a setting sun."

The emcee walked onstage after he'd finished. "I think we'll have an intermission here and give Mr., uh," 

"Krycek."

"Krycek a break."

Krycek walked offstage and through the audience, people touching him, patting him. Someone touched his shoulder and he turned around. He didn't at first recognize the man, who was in his late fifties maybe, with long graying hair.

"Oh, my God," he said reverently. "Y-you heard me sing your song!"

"I heard it all," the man said, grinning. "And you have an amazing talent, Mr. Krycek. So great that I want you to come by the studio to audition. Do you have a body of work?"

"I have a few songs I've written, that's all."

"That's enough. Here's my card. This could be your ticket to fame and fortune. You've got an amazing voice, superb phrasing... and you've got the looks."

"Thank you, thank you, sir! I've admired you all my life!"

"Yeah, yeah," the man said easily. "And call me by my first name."

Neither of them noticed in the crush of the crowd two more men entering the bar. One was an Indian of middle years with a long braid; the other an older man in a business suit. They pushed their way to either side of Krycek and each took an arm, and lifted. He went with them easily enough, the famous musician noticed. Stepping outside for a smoke, he watched the Indian load the black stallion into a big silver horse trailer. The horse didn't want to be led and kicked and stomped his way in.

The talented young Mr. Krycek was stuffed into a black Porsche and the musician watched as the older man shot him up. So, it's like that, he thought. Well, he's still a damned fine singer and I hope I can sign him up.

************************************************************************

"Hello? Oh, A.D., thanks for calling me back!"

"What's going on?" Skinner asked.

"Well," said Scully, "the Gunmen have isolated an extraneous microprocessor in that PC of Death, and they're running it through tests to see what's up with it."

"So they think the PC actually caused the death? By the way, his next of kin disconnected him from the life support, and now he actually is dead. He's at the county morgue, if you'd like to take a look."

"I will," she said, glancing at the clock. "It's six AM here, nothing's open."

"Go anyway. And I want to be the first to know what the results are on that chip."

"A.D., we've got someone helping us whom you may not approve of."

He sighed. "Who is it, Krycek?"

"No, it's another friend of ours. He helped out with the ceremony a couple of months ago; Bill Runningwater, the Navajo chief."

"As I understand it, this guy lives with Spender and is very tight with him, right?'

"Yes, he can feed us information."

"Yeah, that's IF he's not actually a double agent and telling all he knows to his boss."

"You know, knowing him, I can say that he's a very honest individual and would not do that. He's concerned about what the Smoking Man is doing."

"So you trust him?"

"Implicitly."

"This could be a horrible mistake, Agent Scully. This guy could prove a conduit from us to him."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "He's clean."

"All right, then go for it. Look, I just want to say that I am very happy with the job you're doing. It's the hardest job in the world, and you're doing it!"

"Thank you! What happened in Pennsylvania, anyway?"

"There were sightings, there was his flight out and his flight back. We think he may have met with the aliens."

She whistled. "Guess he's sewing this up tight."

"Trying to, trying to, Agent Scully. It's your job, and Agents White and Mulder's, to pick out the seams."

************************************************************************

"You can see that, can't you?" Byers asked Frohike and Langly. "A channel, only one angstrom wide but literally a mile long, doubled up like a worm inside that chip?"

"Yeah," said Frohike. "What does it mean?"

Langly popped his sucker out of his mouth. "It's an acceleration channel, I bet."

"I'll bet you're right," said Byers. "See, it's a miniature atomic accelerator."

"But why?" asked Frohike.

Byers tapped his chin. "That we don't know yet. I'm guessing that subatomic particles thrown off by the atoms accelerating and striking this," he said, indicating a solid bar, "would have had some effect on the person using the computer. As soon as a personality was 'trapped,' by whatever means, maybe a positronic field, the device turned itself off. Only one personality can be contained in the computer. As of yet."

"You're really onto something, Byers!" said Frohike admiringly. 

"We'll have to tell Mulder," said Langly, sticking his sucker in his mouth. "Right away."

************************************************************************

Scully knocked on Mulder's door at 6:30. "Mulder! MULDER!"

"All right, already. What's the rush, Scully?"

"I'm going to an autopsy. Want to come with me?"

He rolled his eyes. He was wearing just his shorts. Scully eyed him. "Mulder, don't tempt me!" she said.

He grinned. "Want more, huh?"

She blushed deep crimson. "Mulder! You're bad!"

"But I'm also really, really good, right?" he winked at her. "I'll get dressed, Scully. You can come in. I'll just be a minute."

She cleared her throat, walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. He emerged from the bedroom wearing jeans and sweater. "This good enough?"

"For an autopsy? I'd hope so!"

"I told Alex about us, about what happened," Mulder said, once in the car. Scully drove.

"Yeah? What was his reaction?"

"Oh, he took it very well. Said he wasn't exactly faithful himself and all that."

"Yeah, and he doesn't exactly have a choice. You had a choice, Mulder. Did he appreciate that fact? Where's our turnoff, anyway?"

"The next exit, and he didn't say anything, but he knew, Scully. And he still forgave me."

"Wow. He's good people, is Alex."

"Yes, he is. I think here's our exit. Then turn left, and another left."

"Wow, this is pretty much in the middle of nowhere," Scully observed, locking the car. "Through this door, I think." They flashed their badges and were admitted to the morgue. The county coroner peered at them over thick glasses. "You're late," he observed.

"Hey, it's only 7:30," said Mulder. The skull was already sawn through and the brain lay pinkly exposed.

"Anything?" Scully asked, snapping on rubber gloves.

"Nada," said the man.

"We're not necessarily looking for gross abnormalities here, although it's possible," Scully said.

"Then what are we looking for, here?"

The man annoyed her. "We're looking for subtle structural dysmorphism," she said. "It might appear just at the cellular level, but it's possible that with sufficient disruption of a large number of cells, it would be visible to the naked eye."

"What the hell happened to this guy, anyway? I was told he was electrocuted, but he shows no indications of that having occurred."

She shook her head. "It's more subtle than that. We think it may have been due to some kind of energy field, though. Have you done a slide?"

"Nope, haven't cut into the dura even. Want a slide, be my guest!"

Scully picked up a scalpel and sliced through the dura mater. "Got the...? Thank you. Recording," she said. "Dura is normal, surface of the cerebrum appears normal. Cutting into the cerebrum, through the corpus callosum, everything appears intact. Parietal lobe, normal. Temporal lobe, normal. Occipital lobe, normal. Frontal lobe, hmm, some odd solidified grayish matter. Creating a slide of this matter...OK."

"What'd you find?" Mulder asked.

"Some fried cells, looks like," Scully said distractedly. "I'll know better when I look at 'em under the scope."

"Cutting through the midbrain," Scully continued, "looks normal. Hindbrain...oh, some more solidified matter in the hippocampus. Taking a slide...Medulla, normal, pons, normal. Brainstem, normal."

She clicked off the recorder. "Looks like just the hippocampus and the frontal lobe have abnormalities. I'll look at these slides under the microscope...Look at this, Mulder."

He saw a tangled mass of cells. "I didn't take much biology, Scully."

"What you're looking at is a plaque, a mass of dead neurons. You see this in Alzheimer's...this guy was only 25 years old; I don't think it's Alzheimer's. I think they're fried."

"Fried?"

"Cooked."

"Electrically?"

"Could be. I want to run some more tests on this stuff."

She conferred briefly with the coroner. "I want an analysis of these proteins," she told the man, who sighed and jotted it down.

"Think they're alien proteins?" Mulder said in the parking lot, reaching in his jeans pocket for some sunflower seeds.

She shook her head. "I doubt it. I'm just looking for changes due to radiation. Not just the 'cooking,' but changes in synthesis. New, different proteins."

"Oh," he said, intelligently. "Hey Scully?" he said, climbing into the car. 

She started it up. "Yes?"

"Wanna go home and, you know?"

She turned and looked at him severely. "I have a fiance to do 'you know' with, Mulder. And you have a gay lover."

"Whom I never see, because his presence is appropriated by someone else."

She sighed. "Mulder, we just have to get you a boyfriend...or a girlfriend... or something!"

"I have a boyfriend, whom I love passionately."

"Mulder, how do you get back on the freeway here?"

"Take a right, then another right I think."

"Mulder, if you love him so passionately, then why are you bugging me?"

He smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand. "I'm horny, Scully!"

"Oh, now that's very flattering!"

"I don't express myself very well," he said. "But I would love to sleep with you again."

"Ah. To relieve the pressure?"

"Well, yeah. Recreationally."

Navigating the car onto the freeway, she looked at him sidelong, pulled out her cell phone and punched a number. "Yeah, this is Dana Scully. Put Krycek on. Don't give me any shit about it, just put him on. Just...listen, old man. I'm not afraid of you. If you don't put Krycek on right now, I'll drive over there and punch you out, and believe me, I'll do a better job than Mulder!...Don't you laugh at me!...Oh, hi Alex! On the extension?...Put that phone down! Don't you listen to our private conversation!...Alex, here's Mulder," she said, and handed him the cell phone. Mulder, who'd been listening to her end of the interchange with lively interest, giggled into the phone.

"Alex! So good to hear your voice! What've you been up to, sweetheart?"

"Oh, baby, it's so good to talk to you! What...can you please put that extension down? What tone of voice? Ouch! Damn!"

"Did he hurt you?" Mulder asked, murder in his heart.

"Not very much; I'll survive. He just slapped me, Mulder. Now what were you say--"

The line went dead. "Damn damn damn!" Mulder swore softly. "Now I don't know what's happening to him, and can only imagine the worst."

************************************************************************

The phone went dead because it was plucked out of Krycek's hand and the "off" button depressed. The man who had replaced it, lifted Krycek's face with a hand under his chin and slapped him again, then again and yet again, hard enough to leave imprints and bloody the younger man's nose.

"Go in the bathroom and clean up, Alex," the man said quietly. "It's time for a shot."

Krycek washed his face, went out to the livingroom and sat down, holding out his arm obediently. Bill Runningwater watched everything, disapproval writ large on his face. "One of these days you'll break his nose or teeth or something," he said.

"No, I won't. I don't use enough force. I wouldn't do anything to endanger his looks. Alex, how do you feel?"

"Pretty good," was the laconic response.

"Good. Now do a favor for me."

Runningwater turned his back on them, not necessarily wanting to see Alexei suck off his boss. The sound effects were bad enough. He busied himself making loud kitchen noises, banging pots and pans, swinging cabinet doors shut with unnecessary force.

"What are you making, Bill?" the Old Man called, after a few minutes.

Noise, he thought. "I'm making a quiche Lorraine," he called.

"Sounds great. For lunch?"

No, to paint the walls with. "Yeah, it'll be done by then." He looked over at the couple. They were snuggling, Krycek with his arms around the man, who was running his fingers through Krycek's soft thick hair, kissing the top of his head.

"I've got to go out for a while," he said, "and then I'll be gone in the evening, too. Be here when I get back, Alexei."

"All right," said Krycek.

The minute he left, Krycek was on the phone. "Mulder, this is Alex," he said urgently.

"Alex! I'm in transit, somewhere near the Alpine Road cutoff."

"Mulder, what a coincidence! Get on Alpine Road and follow him East, if you can catch him. Do you know what his car looks like? It's a black Porsche, license NRG 123. Tail him to wherever he's going; I think it's one of his business meetings."

"Ill try. Scully, get off here and then turn right."

She raised her eyebrows but complied. "That's it!" Mulder shouted excitedly. "Scully, tail the black Porsche!"

"Is that his?" she asked. "What are the chances?"

"Just serendipitous, Scully."

The man noticed his tail, someone who stuck to him like a burr, ran several yellow lights and one red one, one he couldn't shake. He took a circuitous route to University Avenue, didn't see the car, and figured he'd lost him.

Mulder and Scully watched as he parked his car and stalked off. "He's going into that bank building, the one with the alien painted on the side." She laughed. "How apropos!" Mulder got out of the car and followed him. "Want me to come with you?" she called.

"No," he said, and walked into the University Bank Building. He looked at the marquee and the bank of elevators. Floor 10 was left blank, he noticed, so he punched the up arrow and waited. The elevator disgorged him on a quiet hall. Nearby, a young Latina stood at a catering cart, folding napkins. He glanced at her, tried the big double doors at the end of the hall. They didn't budge. "COFFEE," he yelled, and the doors were opened. He slipped through.

So. This was the Consortium in all its faded glory! About 20 men, most of them older, sat at and around a big conference table. "You're not the coffee boy," said the door-opener in irritation.

His enemy was engaged in studying papers he'd laid out on the table, and he barely looked up at the disturbance. "Whoever you are, you can leave," he said, looking at a paper.

"What if I don't want to leave?" asked Mulder, hands shoved in his jeans pockets.

The Smoking man leaped to his feet. "You again! How did you find me? Get out!" he reached for a phone and punched a number. "I just called Security," he said. "Now will you get the hell out?"

"You men," said Mulder gravely, "are all sheep, and you're being led to the slaughter as surely as are the rest of humanity you're selling out. You're sheep because you let this man do your thinking for you! You're sheep because you follow him blindly, even over a precipice, falling to your death!"

"I don't appreciate this," said the First Elder.

"Young man, you're angry because he's got your boyfriend," said the Well-Manicured Man.

"Yes, and wouldn't you be?" Mulder cried. "Can't you men stand up to him? Can't you learn to think for yourselves? Where will you live once the aliens have populated the Earth? Have you thought about that? Do you all have cozy little bungalows on Alpha Centauri? No, my friends, you lose the world in this scenario, AND your souls, both of which you've sold out to the Devil," he said, pointing to the Smoking Man.

"You're melodramatic, Fox, as usual," the man said wearily. "This is a private meeting. Now get out!"

"I won't!" said Mulder.

"You will," said the man, and the security people came through the double doors. "Take him downstairs. Rough him up a little, but don't hurt him."

Each guard took an arm and Mulder was dragged down the hall. "Hey! Hey! I didn't give you permission to do this! Hey, you're hurting my feelings!"

Once in the elevator, one thug punched him in the stomach and the other in the ribs. Mulder had sudden sharp pain and felt something give way. "My rib," he said sadly.

He was escorted to the sidewalk. "Hey," he said. "I'm not playing with you boys anymore!"

He walked back to the car, holding his rib. It hurt to breathe.

"What the hell happened to you?" cried Scully. "Oh, he hurt you!"

"His goons did. What does a doctor do for a broken rib, Scully?"

"Nothing, or tapes it up. Want to go to the emergency room?"

"Naw. I'll just go home and lie down."

"All right," she said, worried. "What did you do, barge into their meeting?"

"Yeah," he said, "and I gave them all a lecture on the evil of his ways."

"Oh, guess that's why you got that," she said, indicating his side.

"Well, you're not very sympathetic."

"You insist on going into the lion's den, Mulder. And every time you do, you get mauled."

************************************************************************

"Hello, may I please speak to Mr. ___ ____? asked Alex Krycek. "Oh, sure, I can hold." He winked at Bill Runningwater. "Oh, hi, Mr. _____? This is Alex Krycek, the singer at San Gregorio yesterday...Yeah...Do you still want me to come in and audition? You DO? Oh, that's great! When?...Uh-huh...Sure...the address on the card, Woodside? Oh... Jeans and a shirt, leather jacket. Why?...Oh, really? Wow!...Great! Thanks so much!"

"I have a date to audition for a CD!" Krycek squeaked, jumping up and down.

"That's wonderful!" Bill said, laughing. "That's so wonderful, Alexei!"

"What will the Old Man say?" Krycek asked, his face falling.

"We won't tell him," said Runningwater. "Not till we have to."

Krycek picked up the phone again. "Mulder? This is me!...what's the matter, Mulder?...you did?...What? You're hurt?...Your rib? Mulder, go to the emergency room, have Scully or White drive you. You could have a punctured lung or something...'yes, Dr. Krycek'?" he laughed. "Want me to meet you there? OK...Mulder, it's the greatest thing! I have an audition tomorrow with ____ ____!...Yeah, I met him at the San Gregorio General Store last night, open-mike night. He heard me sing! Isn't it great!...He's pretty cool, for an old dude...I'll be there in a few, OK?"

Krycek slung on his jacket. "Where're my keys?" he asked frantically. "Did he take 'em?" Runningwater patiently held up his hand, keys in them. "Thanks!" he said, grabbing them.

"Are you going to the Stanford ER?" asked the Navajo.

"Yeah, but you don't know that," he said.

"He's in X-Ray," called Scully from the ER waiting room. "They think he might have a punctured lung. Very labored, painful respirations."

"Aw, shit!" swore Krycek, sitting down and absentmindedly pushing back his hair, which had more than ever the tendency to flop in his face. "He did it?"

"Yeah, one of his goons, to be exact," said Scully. "I knew Mulder shouldn't have followed him into his meeting."

"It's my fault, I tipped you guys off," said Krycek mournfully. "I didn't think he'd actually go right into the room!"

"It's not your fault, Alex. It's Mulder. You know how he is."

"He's back from X-Ray, Dr. Scully," a nurse called. "Who's this?"

"Friend of the family," said Krycek.

"So Mulder," Scully said, picking up his chart. "You do indeed have a punctured lung and you are scheduled for major surgery. After that you'll have a short hospital stay, then home, where I can take care of you."

"Thanks," croaked Mulder. "Thanks for coming, Alex!"

Krycek leaned forward and kissed him, long and lingeringly. "Are you in pain, love?" he asked. 

"Not much. They've got me on codeine with the IV," he said, indicating the bottle.

"I'm sorry he did this to you!"

"Hey, I'm sorry, too. Technically, he had someone else do it to me."

Krycek held his hand and kissed him again.

"Yes, well...While you two are otherwise engaged, I think I'll talk to the attending," Scully said. "Oh, hi David! Thanks for coming!"

"Yeah, no problem. How's the patient?"

"As well as might be expected. He's got a punctured lung and he's going into surgery."

White whistled. "What'd you do this time, boy?"

"Went where no man has gone before," said Mulder solemnly, started to laugh then winced with pain. Krycek leaned over him, kissing the hurt away. "Hey, Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"I've got a problem. Feel," and he guided Krycek's hand to his cock.

"You are so horny, Mulder! All right. Wait'll..." White left to find Scully, Krycek ducked his head under the sheet and took Mulder in his mouth.

"Ah," said Mulder. "That hits the spot!"

Krycek didn't have time to perform artistically, so he just sucked as hard as he could till Mulder tensed and came with a loud groan, clutching the sides of the bed and shooting down Krycek's throat. He lay, gasping and groaning, while Krycek kissed him and kissed him.

"That'll do wonders for his lung," said Scully critically.

"It wasn't my lung I was thinking about," said Mulder, grinning, and then winced.

"Yeah, but it's your lung you're thinking about now!" she said.

Before gaining admittance to the Stanford ER waiting room, one is required to pass through a metal detector. "I have two firearms," the tall man said. "Hand 'em over," the guard said.

"No."

"What are you, law enforcement? You're required to check your weapons."

The man lit a cigarette. "I'm not required to do anything."

Mulder saw him approach first. "Oh, hey, Dad!" he called, amiably. "Nice of you to visit me!"

The man picked up his chart. "I told them not to hurt you," he said.

"You told them to rough him up!" Scully cried. "What'd you think they were going to do, play Lazer Tag?"

Krycek, still lying all over Mulder, gave the man a defiant look. "That won't fly with me, Alexei," he said, easily. "Come on! You are missing your medication." He crooked one finger at Krycek, and the younger man rose and sullenly followed him out.

White's eyebrows rose to his hair. "Jesus," he said.

"It's quite an interesting dynamic, isn't it?" Scully asked.

"I took a seminar once just on him, Alex Krycek, the feared assassin! Now--" he gestured.

"Now he's just another faggot?" Mulder asked. 

They pulled out of the ER parking lot and to a more remote lot, away from the prying eyes of guards, and the older man shot up the younger. "You're coming home with me, Alex."

"OK," said Krycek, leaning his head on the man's shoulder.

************************************************************************

"Oh, hi, A.D."

"Mulder! Heard about your accident! But you found out where he meets!"

"Yeah, but he'll change his meeting place."

"I'd love to get one of those places bugged, Mulder. But you're too visible! I'm sending another agent, an Agent Brian Johansen, in to help while you're down."

"Johansen? We've met."

"Yes, he was in both Utah and Santa Cruz. He's good, Mulder. He had Nightshade busted, remember?"

"Yeah, till her boss set her free." 

"Are you eating sunflower seeds, Mulder?"

"No," he said, quickly spitting one out.

"Anyway, he'll take that upstairs unit that was Mahdib's."

"Has this guy been briefed, A.D.?"

"He has. On everything. He called it a --" Skinner laughed.

"A what? He called it a what?"

"A 'fucking soap opera'." 

Mulder grinned. "It is that, you know. 'All my Children.' Just think of an older male Erica Kane."

"Heard about you and Scully," Skinner said.

Mulder choked on a seed. 

"You OK?"

"Yeah. Who told you?"

"Never mind. You very nearly caused another Rift Valley, there, Mulder. I'd watch it if I were you. Other men's sweethearts, Mulder. You got punched in the face, now you've got a punctured lung. And things might not have gone so well with Agent White, either; but he's a fairly reasonable man. You've been warned."

"Hey, the rib/lung thing was because of the meeting."

Skinner sighed. "And what did you say at the meeting? You can't tell me the Krycek thing never came up."

"Not in those words."

"But it came up."

"Maybe," said Mulder, surreptitiously cracking another seed.

"Well, there you go. And he had to defend his honor."

"Good Christ," said Mulder, rolling his eyes.

"That's enough, Mr. Mulder," said a nurse, taking his cell phone. "We're not supposed to let the patients use their phones here."

After his surgery, Mulder was taken to a room on the third floor, where Scully and White looked in on him. "How are you doing, Mulder?" Scully asked, when he awoke.

"Fine," he said groggily. "I can't feel a thing. They operated on me?"

"Yes, and now you're all better, except for the fact that you've got to rest."

"Are those flowers for me?"

"They are. Hope you like 'em!"

"Wow. Do you think Alex will visit?"

"I don't know," Scully said. "You'll be discharged probably this evening, then he can visit you at home. But Mulder, don't do anything to strain that lung! That means no sex, you horny little devil."

"Oh, are YOU a wet blanket!"

"That's how you put out a fire."

************************************************************************

Mulder watched interestedly as the flowers piled up all day. There were bouquets from White, from Skinner, Alex, from the newbie, Johansen, and from friends in the Bureau; there was even one, he noted sardonically, from Kersh.

The Lone Gunmen paid him a visit, bringing him flowers and a Christmas fruitcake.

"Why the fruitcake?" he asked, trying not to laugh, as it hurt.

"We thought you'd like it," said Langly solemnly. "It's got sunflower seeds baked into it."

"Into a FRUITCAKE? Aw, geez. Well, thanks, guys! I'm sure it'll be delicious, or something!"

A little later in the day, he heard a familiar voice at the nurses' station. "Let me see his chart," the man said. "Yes, I can...I'm his father...thank you."

Mulder scrunched down as far as he could under the thermal blanket. Then he pulled it over his head.

"Fox," the man said, "I know you're awake. See what I've brought you!"

Mulder peeked over the blanket, made a big show of yawning. "Oh, gee, Dad, nice to see you! Third time's a charm, eh?"

"Are you in much pain?"

"Some, because they can't use a lot of drugs which suppress respiration."

"I'm sorry about that," the man said, placing the most spectacular bouquet Mulder had ever seen on the windowsill.

"What've you got in that?" Mulder said, indicating something that looked like a pet carrier.

"See!" the man said, and he pulled out a Shetland sheepdog pup, which he placed on the bed by Mulder.

"Oh," Mulder breathed, "I've always wanted a dog! How did you know?"

The man looked at him strangely. "I know everything," he said. "You're being discharged in about half an hour. Ms. Scully is at the nurses' station now; she can take the pup until you're sufficiently recovered to care for him. He's got papers, which I'll give to her."

"While you're here," Mulder said, folding his arms behind his head, "would you mind telling me about the killer microprocessor you and your scientists have cooked up?"

There was the merest of starts. Then silence.

"Uh-huh," Mulder said. "OK, that answers one of my questions."

Scully walked into Mulder's room, giving the Smoking Man the sourest of looks. "What've you got there, Mulder? Oh, it's a puppy!" she squeaked, picking him up. "Oh, how cute!"

The puppy chose that moment to pee all over her blouse.

Mulder was taken by wheelchair to the waiting car. "Hey, guy, I hear you're doing all right!" White said.

"Yeah," Mulder said laconically. "I guess. Look what I got!" he exclaimed, holding up the pet carrier.

"You got a dog? Who gave you that?"

Scully, having finished loading all the flowers, banged the door shut with unnecessary force.

"Oh," said White. "Really? So he was up there visiting you?"

"Yeah," said Mulder. "Guess his conscience got to him."

"What fucking conscience?" Scully asked tightly.

"Scully, you're obscene!" said Mulder.

"Not around you, she isn't," said White.

They drove home and Mulder was helped into bed. Scully took the puppy with her. Soon there was a knock at the door. "It's unlocked!" Mulder said. "Come on in!"

The Lone Gunmen trooped in. "Mulder, we need to tell you what we found out about the microprocessor!" said Byers.

"Have a seat. Have seats," amended Mulder. "One of you can sit on the bed. No, I won't try to seduce you," he said, looking at Langly amusedly.

"OK," said Byers, "we found what we consider to be a miniature atomic accelerator, built into the chip, structurally. We think that atoms being smashed in this way are yielding radiation in the form of maybe positrons, and that these positrons are sufficiently strong as to draw in brain activity, right into the computer, where it is stored, maybe in memory, maybe on the hard drive or maybe right in the chip."

"Whew!" said Mulder. "That's pretty intense, guys. Hey, can you hand me my sunflower seeds? Thanks! Hey, I've thought of something. What if there are more of these chips? What if this isn't just the trial run?"

"We've thought of that," said Frohike. "In fact, we've been talking to the new guy, Johansen, and he's going to check out the manufacturers in the valley."

"Well, that's an awful damn lot, isn't it?" asked Mulder. "They don't call this Silicon Valley for nothing!"

Someone knocked at the door. "Come on in!" called Mulder. It was the new guy. "Hey," said Mulder, amiably. "We meet again!"

"Yes," said Johansen, extending his hand. "Good to see that you're recovering, Mulder. Now, I understand that you were injured by the Smoking Man's people?"

"Well, it was building security, but they were under his orders, I don't know why."

"He owns the building," said Johansen

"I thought University Bank owns the building."

"He owns University Bank."

"Oh," said Mulder, cracking a seed. "What or who the fuck doesn't he own?"

"Us," said Johansen, "he doesn't own us. Now, Mulder, I understand that this is...I don't know how to put it..."

"A fuckin' soap opera?" Mulder asked helpfully.

Johansen looked at him sharply. "Skinner must have told you I said that."

"Yeah, but that's OK."

"Mulder, I don't know how to put this, but for the integrity of this mission to remain intact, you've got to stop sleeping with people's boyfriends and girlfriends. You're going to get yourself killed, or you're going to give people information who should not have it."

"'People' meaning Alex Krycek?"

"Yes, exactly," said Johansen. "Try not to have any contact with him."

Mulder snorted and spat a hull into a coffee can. "Easier said than done. He's my lover, and we're in love."

"He's someone else's lover, and that someone else is in love with him, too. And he's infinitely more powerful than you, and he is our great enemy."

Byers called, "I'll be right back," and left out the back door.

Mulder lay back. "OK," he said wearily. "What else have you got to say? Anything?"

"Well, I'll be working closely with all of you. I'm living upstairs from you. I'm not a double agent like the Abdul woman was, and I won't spill secrets to the enemy. I'm hard-driven, I'm critical, I'm not sentimental, but I'm for real, Mulder. I've admired you and your work with the X-Files for a long time, and I'm glad I've finally gotten the chance to meet you. Try to limit your exposure to the Smoking Man and his minions. It can only be trouble for you, and hence for us."

"He visited me in the hospital twice, and I didn't have any control over that."

"I know."

"Do you know he's my biological father?"

Johansen nodded. "Oh, yes. That was the first thing I learned about the X-Files. It's the explanation for the way he's protected you over the years, even while he was thwarting your investigations."

"He shot his other son, Jeff Spender. Point-blank, in the face. What a mess!"

"I know that," Johansen said. "But he cares about you, Mulder, for some reason. You're one of exactly two people in the universe whom he gives a damn about."

"It could have something to do with my mother," Mulder said thoughtfully.

Brian nodded. "Yes, I'd come to a conclusion something like that. He must have loved her, whereas he didn't love Jeff Spender's mother, his wife."

"And sold her to the aliens," said Mulder. "Such a nice guy, my pa."

Byers had let himself in the back door, and now the Gunmen were huddling over something in the corner.

"Whatcha got, guys?" Mulder asked.

"We found another microprocessor in the monitor," said Byers. "We think that it was the conduit for positronic radiation emitted by the monitor itself."

"Well, that's cool," said Mulder. "I mean, it's cool that you found out. Hey, Johansen, I hear you're going to check out all the Valley manufacturers."

He nodded. "But not just me. Skinner gave me the authority to bring out other agents so that we can conduct the investigation much more rapidly."

"OK," said Mulder.

"Any idea of how long you'll be laid up?"

"That depends," said Mulder. "Could be a few days, a week. Could be longer."

"All right," said Johansen. "I'll cover for you, Mulder. It's been so good to make your re-acquaintance," he added, shaking Mulder's hand. "And you three," he said to the Gunmen, "are proving absolutely invaluable. The case would be dead in the water without you."

They smiled and Frohike blushed.

The front door opened and Scully marched in. "Here's your dog," she said, and unceremoniously dumped the puppy on the bed.

"Has he been bad? Have you been bad, little snookums?" he asked, holding the pup, who licked his face enthusiastically.

"Blecch!" said Scully. "He's been having accidents all over the place. You take him for a while. He's yours, anyway. Who gave him to you, I'd like to know?"

"You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't what?"

"Like to know," he said, making kissy faces at the Sheltie.

"Oh Christ," she said, rolling her eyes. "Somehow he knew, the way he knows everything, that you've always wanted a dog."

"Maybe he knew from when he visited us on the Vineyard? Not that I remember."

"That is just the strangest thing, that you don't remember your childhood, Mulder. You ought to get back into therapy and try to figure out why. Anyway, here're the puppy's food and water dishes, and I'll put some newspapers down on the kitchen floor, Mulder, for him to do his business on."

"OK, thanks," he said.

He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, and thought of Alex, his Alex.

************************************************************************

  
Archived: April 22, 2001 


End file.
